


Scrooged

by Kellyscams



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers
Genre: A Christmas Carol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Jewish!Jane, M/M, Miracles, Mutism, PTSD, happy endings, holiday fic, jewish!bucky, jewish!natasha, mixed with the movie scrooged, pre iron man!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this modern take on Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," Tony Stark is a wildly successful television executive whose cold ambition and curmudgeonly nature has driven away the love of his life, Pepper Potts. But after years of treating his assistant, Steve Rogers, badly, blowing off his best friend, Rhodey, for the holidays once again, and firing a staff member on the day before Christmas Eve, Tony is visited by a series of ghosts who give him a chance to re-evaluate his actions and right the wrongs of his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrooged

**Author's Note:**

> so this is a combination of Dicken's _A Christmas Carol_ and the 1980s movie _Scrooged_. I hope you enjoy!

**The Ebenezer Scrooge**

Tony Stark cares about two things and two things only.

Tony Stark.

And how Tony Stark can make more money. 

As the youngest CEO in broadcasting history, Tony Stark has made a name for himself by taking over his father’s company and building it up to the most successful entertainment empire in the world. Tomorrow night, he hopes to make history again by pulling in the largest audience number for a live production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Sure, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, but what does Tony care? The entire holiday season is sham anyway. 

At the moment, Tony is seated at the his desk in his office while the long conference table is surrounded by his board members. They’re here to present to him the latest promo for tomorrow’s production. Next to him, his personal assistant, Steve, sits tense and still. Steve is a mountain of muscles topped with messy dark blonde hair that Tony’s constantly telling him to comb. Tony likes the way Steve kisses his ass. Like right now, when Tony lifts his glass, Steve quickly grabs the pitcher of water not even a full foot away from Tony himself and refills the glass for him. Yes, Tony does enjoy a good ass kisser, even though Steve’s sometimes not shy about sharing with Tony how he really thinks about a decision he’s made. Guess he earned that right after being Tony’s assistant for the past five years. 

The presentation he’s watching right now is actually making him a little sick to his stomach. It’s fluffy and happy, with singing children and sugar plum bullshit that makes Tony want to throw a frozen fruitcake at someone. Who likes fruitcake anyway?

Once the promo ends, all the eyes in the room slowly turn as they all wait anxiously for his thoughts. Tony already knows what he’s going to say, but he’ll let them sweat it out for a few moments for his own entertainment. His fingers drum slowly along the glass tabletop. The room holds its breath around him as it waits for his answer.

“Wow,” he mutters. “Doesn’t that suck.”

Tony rises from his seat -- as usual, Steve follows in suit -- and makes his way over to the counter on the side of the room where black mugs with the name of the company -- Stark TV -- written on the sides wait for him. As soon as he turns back around, Steve is pouring coffee into it and adding several scoops of sugar. 

“What am I paying you people for?” he questions. “To give me cavities?”

Ironic complaint, given all the sugar he’s paying Steve to dump into his coffee for him. 

“You know,” One of the board members -- Joe, his name might be -- says. “Kids are responding very positively.”

That makes Tony roll his eyes. Kids. Right, cause _they’re_ so hard to impress. Tony’s so glad he never was one.

Letting out a groan, Tony passes a hand over his face. “We have spent forty million dollars on a _live_ tv show and you people have an ad that basically fell out of Rudloph’s ass.” He sighs and drops his hands. “Now, I’m just gonna have to kill all of you.”

Of course the threat is bogus, and Tony’s fairly certain they all know that he’s not going to physically harm any of them, but the idea of the metaphor behind it is reason enough for the group to tense up. Tony might not lay a finger on any of them but that doesn’t mean he can’t kill them in every other way.

“Well, sir,” Joe -- or is it Jim? -- states. “We’ve been running that ad for over a month now and it… well it’s getting one hell of a response.”

“Steve?” Tony responds to that, and immediately Steve is trying to stand up straighter and giving him every drop of his attention.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

Tony doesn’t bother looking at him. “Who is the youngest CEO ever in television history?”

“Uh…” 

He hesitates. Anything longer than a second or two to answer such a simple question is completely unacceptable. Tony snaps his gaze at him.

“This is not a trick question, Steven,” he snides. “I’ll even give you a hint…”

“You, sir,” Steve interrupts. “You’re the youngest CEO ever in television history.”

Smirking, Tony turns to face the rest of the table again. He laces his fingers and rests his hands just under his chin.

“And why is that?”

There’s only one answer to this and Steve is prepared with it. “Because you’re good at your job, sir.”

“That’s right.” Tony points a finger at him, but doesn’t look at his assistant. “Despite the thoughts that I’m in this position because my father died ten years ago, it’s actually because I know what I’m doing. And I’m good at what I do, because I know the people. And I know what they want.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark?”

Someone all the way at the far corner of the table puts his hand halfway up. He waves it a little as if he’s a kid in school looking for brownie points from his teacher. 

“What?” Tony grunts. 

“It’s just…” He looks over whatever papers he’s brought to the meeting with him. “You have the numbers. The people wanna watch the show.”

Glancing over the table again, Tony notices something. There’s a new person sitting at the meeting with them. Tony knows she’s new because he’s never seen her before and he’d know if he’d seen her before. His lips pull up in a smirk and before he can say anything, Steve is clearing his throat. 

“You still have that pending lawsuit,” he mutters. “In case you forgot.”

Tony flicks his gaze back to Steve and the kid can all but _not_ roll his eyes at him. That’s okay. He’s right anyway.

“What would I do without you, Steve?” Tony shoots a look back at whoever was speaking to him about numbers. “ _That’s_ not good enough!” he exclaims. “I want people to _need_ to watch it! To be _scared_ to miss it! Now…” he says in a quieter tone, “If I were in charge.” He adds a smirk and a not so friendly slap to this guy’s shoulder. “Which I am. _This_ is what I’d’ve done. Steve! Cue it up.”

Steve pulls out his phone, already set to what he needs to get a new video running on the screen as Tony stands in front of it. Thunder claps and ominous music begins to play over a series of chaotic events. Natural disasters and car accidents and explosions. A narrator’s voice booms out of the speakers, naming each event and by the end, Tony speaks along with it.

“Now, more than ever, it is important to remember the true meaning of Christmas. Don’t miss Charles Dickens’ immortal classic _Scrooge_. Your life may just depend on it.” Tony turns back around. Smug grin on his face. “Not bad, huh?”

Off to the side, he’s well aware of Steve’s disapproving sigh. Kid probably shakes his head, too. Not that it matters. He has no say in the business aspect of the job. He’s here to be Tony’s beck and call boy. And even if he _did_ have some say in the decisions that went on in this room, it doesn’t matter. Tony is the one in charge. As such, no one complains, no one voices any objections, no argues. 

Meeting adjourned. 

They’re leaving. One by one piling out of the room as Steve jots down more notes, or whatever it is he does with that notebook instead of joining the modern world and getting a tablet. 

“I want it run every hour on the hour,” Tony announces to no one in particular. “Make it happen.”

Someone says they’ll be on top of it and, as far as Tony’s concerned, the matter is taken care of. Or so he thought.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark?”

Oh for the love of… the same guy as before with all the answers. Who is this guy and what in the world does he think he’s doing?

“ _Yes_?” Tony replies. 

They’re standing right by his office doors and even Steve has gone back to his desk to work. Yet this guy is still standing here, wasting time. 

“What… uh… what exactly does that ad have to do with _A Christmas Carol_?” he asks. 

Tony’s eyes lift up to the ceiling like he needs a moment to think about it. He looks back at the man and shrugs. 

“Nothing. Why?”

“Well… you can’t run that,” he insists. Petulant cry baby. “If you… if you run that, you’re gonna frighten people.”

“You think I’m way off base here?” Tony questions gently. Eyebrows pulled in like he’s seriously entertaining whatever the bozo has to say.

“Yes! Well…” He clears his throat when Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re a… you’re a tad off base, sir. That thing looked like a serial killer’s Christmas special.”

“It’s a little late to get this kind of feedback!” 

Look at this guy. Totally eating it up. He has no idea what’s coming to him. 

“That’s, um, that’s because it’s the first time we’ve ever seen it, sir.”

“You’re right,” Tony agrees. “I sprung it on ya.”

“Well it’s not… it’s not that bad. It’s just… maybe lose the part with the blood and fire and, um, the guy with the gun?”

“Alright, alright.” He nods and runs his fingers over his chin. “Look, if I can have it changed, I’ll let you know.”

This guy lights up with a huge smile as though Tony’s just given him some wonderful gift. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“No, no,” Tony says. “Thank _you_.”

“You know…” Good _god_ can’t this guy get out of here? “I think you and I are a lot alike in some ways.” Yeah, let’s hope not. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony can see Steve jerk his head up as he does something at his desk. He’s used to Tony not responding too positively to seasons greetings. But, considering Tony’s in a pleasant mood -- which is about to become much _more_ pleasant -- he just smiles and thanks this idiot again. 

“Good thing I have you,” he says as the man walks through Steve’s office space. “We wouldn’t want to scare the Dickens out of anyone.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” the man murmurs instead of acknowledging Tony’s joke. Steve smiles and thanks him. 

“The _Dickens_!” Tony repeats. “No one gets me.” He walks over to Steve as Steve sees the man out. “Steve.” His assistant is smiling when he looks back. Being wished a Merry Christmas, probably. Guy _is_ full of do-gooder merriment and holiday cheer. “Who _is_ that guy?”

Steve glances back out at the main office where the man is walking through. Happily greeting people as he passes and wishing them happy holidays. 

“That’s Eliot Laudermilk,” Steve tells him. Confused by the question. 

“Okay.” Tony pulls his arm up quickly so that his suit jacket slides down his wrist enough. He glances at his watch. “Call security. Have them change his locks, clean out his desk, and escort him out of the building.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and he rattles his head in shock. “Wait, what? He’s fired?” Pleased smile on his face, Tony nods. “But it’s the day before Christmas Eve!”

Tony mocks surprise, shooting his eyebrows up and dropping his mouth open.

“Thank you!” He pats Steve’s shoulder. “Call accounting. Stop his bonus.”

Sighing, Steve picks up the phone and gives whoever answers the name and tells them code nine. Steve can make anything happen at Tony’s behest. As the phone hangs up, Tony gets a glimpse of something on the wall behind Steve’s desk. 

“Steve, what the hell is that?”

He turns to look at the ridiculous piece of paper pinned to the wall and smiles. 

“That’s a drawing my friends’ kid did.” He points to the oblong red blog in the middle of it. “There’s Santa Claus and next to him is Mrs. Claus.”

“Really, and how many fingers does Mrs. Claus have here?”

“Eleven,” he sighs. Face darkening with a scowl. “Why?”

Tony’s hand clasps around the middle of the paper so he can rip it down and crumple it up.

“Yeah, it’s crap. Lose it.” He tosses it at the waste basket next to Steve’s desk. “I don’t wanna see it.”

Ignoring the pissed off and indignant look Steve is giving him, Tony heads back into his office. Before he gets there, he snaps his fingers and tells Steve to make him a drink. No need to specify which one. Steve comes without question starts to make the Rum and Coke for him as Tony goes straight to the telescope at the corner of his office. 

He peers through it and searches for just a moment before spotting what he’s looking for. Eliot Laudermilk is seated at the fountain in front of the building. Tony keeps on watching, even when Steve tells him they need to go over this year’s Christmas list.

“Okay, okay,” Tony mumbles. Eye still pressed against the eyepiece so he doesn’t miss anything. “Read me the list.”

A glass is gently _shoved_ in his hand. Steve handing over the drink he’s prepared. Tony can’t help but chuckle a little as he takes a sip. 

“Hank Pym?” Steve says first. 

Business rival. No need to suck up to him. 

“Bath towel,” Tony answers. 

“T’Challa Panther?”

President of the International Television Affairs company. Very important individual in the business. 

“Send him the 3D smart tv.”

“Alrich Killian?”

Another rival.

“The towel.”

“Nick Fury?”

Consultant for the FCC. Very important to kiss his ass.

“TV.”

“Charles Xavier?”

Outside, Tony finally sees that he’s been waiting for and quickly tells Steve to send a bath towel to Charles Xavier then waves his hand to shut him up. Security is marching towards Eliot Laudermilk with a Xerox box full of his stuff. They toss it in front of him and haul him to his feet. They then shove him away from the fountain and the building, and Eliot skulks off with his personal possessions. 

“Boom!” Tony shouts the second it happens. Pulls away from the telescope and quickly looks at his watch. “Four minutes and twenty seconds.” He peers at Steve. “I think that’s a new record.”

The cold, hard look on Steve’s face tells Tony he’s not amused at all. Too bad. It’d be nice to have someone to share on this fun.

“Rhodey?” Steve asks pointedly. Lifting his eyebrows and he continues with their task. 

The name pulls at Tony’s heart. Probably the only one on that list to have such an impact on him, even if Tony does swallow it back down with the gulp of Rum and Coke he takes. 

“Towel,” he murmurs once his mouth is empty again. 

Steve shakes his head in disappointment. 

“Your best friend,” he states as if Tony didn’t already know this. 

The phone starts to ring and Tony scoffs. 

“Jesus, Steve, gimme that.” He snatches the binder from Steve’s lap. “Answer the phone.”

As he’s running over the list -- TV. TV. Towel. Towel. Towel. -- Steve answers the phone and is only on it for a moment before he hangs up again.

“Most of these are towels,” Tony mutters and thrusts the binder back into Steve’s hands. “Don’t make any mistakes.”

“Mr. Stark,” Steve interrupts. His tone is enough to grab Tony’s attention. “Mr. Fury is on the way up.”

Speak of the devil. Tony quickly grabs his drink from off the desk and starts to gulp it down. At the same time, Steve takes to straightening Tony’s collar and tie and the waist of his pants for him. Once he’s done, he picks up his binder and takes the empty glass from Tony, then rushes over to the liquor cabinet to put it all away. 

As Tony takes a seat behind his desk, he watches Steve close the doors to the cabinet up.

“Steve.” Steve glances over to him. A somewhat pleased look on his face. Like he’s happy with how quickly he got what he needed to do done. “Put yourself down for a towel.”

He moves away from the cabinet and asks cautiously, “What about my bonus?”

Tony tilts his head and doesn’t really need to think about it, but lets Steve think he is anyway.

“Towel and a facecloth.” 

“Ah _shit_ ,” Steve swears. Cheeks blooming red and jaw grinding. 

He might say more -- probably _really_ wants to -- but the doors swinging open has him remembering his place and position. Steve straightens up and pulls a professional expression out as Nick Fury walks into the office. 

“Tony,” Nick says as he comes through the doors.

Tony shoots out of his chair to meet him. “Hey, Nick!”

As Nick passes by Steve he nods and smiles at him. “Steve, good to see you.”

“Same to you, Mr. Fury,” Steve replies just as Tony gets to Nick and grabs his hand for a shake.

“Nick, you look great!” Tony exclaims. “Have you been working out? Steve, why didn’t you tell me?” Taking that as his cue to leave -- he can be taught after all -- Steve gives him a not-at-all-held-back roll of the eyes and closes the doors behind him. Tony pulls out his phone and is already at an article about tomorrow night’s show. “Nick, just look at all this press we’re getting on _Scrooge_. Hey, did you catch the new thing about Tiny Tim? He doesn’t just walk, he--”

“Tony, there are some issues we need to talk about. Do you have a minute?”

“For the FCC?” Tony deadpans. “All the time in the world.”

“Good, because we have a problem with the dancers’ costumes.” 

Nick shows him a picture of the costumes in question on his tablet. All Tony sees are long legged, big breasted women dancing. What’s the problem?

“Okay? What’s wrong with them?” he asks. 

“Namely, you can see their nipples.”

“Yeah?” Tony rattles his head. “I _want_ to see their nipples.”

Crossing his arms, Nick frowns at him. Tony hates it when he gives him that look. The man’s only got one eye and Tony never knows if he should look at the one he still has or the patch.

“Stark, this a rendition of _A Christmas Carol_ ,” he points out.

“Well Charles Dickens would’ve wanted to see their nipples!” The only answers he gets to that is a stone cold glower, and he didn’t know any better, Tony’d think Nick was currently trying to come up with ways to have him taken out. Man probably could. He does look like a former CIA agent or something. “Okay, okay. I’ll have wardrobe fix them tonight.”

“Good. See that you do.”

“Anything else, Nick?”

“Walk with me, Tony.”

Nick still has that look on his face as they leave the office together. When the pass by Steve’s desk, Tony whispers for him to call the police. Precautions. Steve just rolls his eyes again. Tony’s sure he probably flips him off, too, but he’s too focused on remaining on Nick’s good side to notice, and since Nick is going on about how important tomorrow’s production is for Tony’s position, he’s paying very close attention. 

They walk through the office towards the elevators. Pass by cubicles with computers flashing and phones ringing. Everyone is busy. Good. They should be. If they’re not busy it means they’re wasting Tony’s money.

“This is the cornerstone of your year, Tony,” Nick as as they reach the elevators. “Everything is riding on it.”

Leave it to Nick Fury to know that. Tony’s poured nearly half the company’s assets into making this count. A risky move sure, but if his numbers are right -- and they always are -- it’ll see Stark TV as the highest grossing business in the country this year. 

“Yes it is. And I’ll be overseeing every aspect of production,” he assures him. “We will own Christmas.”

“And if you screw up it could cost you your position,” Nick reminds him. 

If anyone could force him out of his seat as CEO it’d be Nick Fury. The censorship committee is quite committed to monitoring potential broadcasting threats. Tony’s always had some trouble getting a good read on Nick though. Sometimes he’s sure he wants him to fail so he’ll be rid of him for good. Other times, it feels like Nick is trying to give him good advice so that _doesn’t_ happen. 

The man did work with Tony’s father for years. Maybe he feels like he owes it to him. Not that Tony has any clue why. It’s not like Howard gave a damn about him anyway. 

“Don’t worry, Nick,” Tony says. “I’m on top of everything.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Nick steps into the one of four elevators that just opened. “Lunch tomorrow? JJ’s?”

“Sounds good.”

“Just remember,” Nick says just as the doors start to close. “I got my eye on you.”

Not sure if that’s a joke or not, Tony just stands there for a second. It’d be easy to dismiss Nick if it wasn’t for those Papa Bear like qualities that come out every now and then. Then again, Tony’s not really sure what a Papa Bear is really like anyway. His dad worked all the time and dropped him off at boarding school as soon as he could. 

“Hey, Anthony!”

Tony doesn’t recognize the voice, but he instantly hates it and feels his lip curl up. From the elevator to the right of him steps off a man that Tony doesn’t know, but he shoots over to him and immediately grabs Tony’s hand to shake it even though Tony didn’t offer. 

“Anthony Stark,” he says excitedly. A fan, maybe? “Good to see you again!” Okay… “Justin Hammer, remember? We met last year at the New Year’s party.”

“Oh,” Tony mumbles as Justin continues to shake his hand. He might have a vague recollection of meeting him there, but Tony remembers the brunette he went home with more. 

“Hey, have you seen Nick?”

As he asks his question, Justin reaches out to adjust Tony’s tie and then brushes his hand over Tony’s shoulder like he’s trying to clean something off.

“Nick just left,” Tony grumbles. Why is this man still touching him?

“Oh, too bad,” Justin says. “Just dropped by to say hello. I went to school with the big guy’s son.” Nick has a son? Justin’s finally let go of his hand and heads back to the elevator he had wait for him. “Hey gimme a call when you hit the coast sometime, we’ll do lunch!”

As the elevator doors close, Justin is talking a mile-a-minute on his phone and Tony definitely, definitely doesn’t like this. Nope. Not at all. Who is that yuppy and is a threat to Tony? Tony’s gonna find out.

He races back to his office, having people hurry out of his way and right before getting to Steve’s section, points to the nearest person and tells them to slam the door for him.

“Hard!” he instructs just as he crosses into the office. The door slams behind him. “Steve, I need a full report on a kiss ass, slime ball named Justin Hammer.”

Steve is already jotting down the name, but for some reason he was standing when Tony came in. He’s also got his jacket on and that makes no sense. 

“Okay,” he answers as he tosses a scarf around his neck. “You’re due across town by seven and I’ve gotta leave. I--”

“Whoa, whoa, you can’t _leave_ ,” Tony snarls. Grabs Steve by the arm to stress this point. “You’re staying here with me. We’re working late.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. It’s not often that he gives Tony that pathetic, lost puppy look, but this is one of those moments. Like Steve doesn’t know what to do or to say and he’s desperately trying to figure it out.

“But I have to go!” he insists, his voice splintering into something of a plead. “We finally have an appointment with that specialist and I have to take--”

“Steve!” Tony interrupts. “When _I_ work late, _you_ work late.”

Rattling his head, Steve opens his mouth and it takes a few tries for the kid to get anything to come out.

“But I had to wait _three_ months for this appointment!”

“I care!” Tony yells. Dripping with sarcasm and apathy. He takes hold of Steve’s arms to keep him still. “You’ve gotta work late! When _I_ work late, _you_ work late! If _you_ can’t work late, _I_ can’t work late! And if _I_ can’t work late, _you don’t work at all_!”

The threat of termination always gets Steve to pale. He backs away a little, but actually looks like he might want to cry. That’s a strange reaction. It’s not like Tony never pushed Steve like this before, but hell, he looks completely dejected right now. Well, at least he’s taking Tony seriously.

“Mr. Stark,” he murmurs softly. “Please, I’m begging you.” Begging? That’s new. Normally he just argues until Tony threatens to fire him. “I cannot miss this appointment. Please.”

Maybe Tony’s just in a good mood. Maybe it’s the pitiful way that Steve peers at him. Eyes misty and face all weepy. Maybe it’s because Tony’s going soft. Whatever the reason, Tony is feeling a bit charitable and really hates that pathetic way Steve is looking at him right now. 

“If, and that’s a big _if_ ,” Tony states. Steve snaps right to attention, alert and ready to listen. He even nods his head, bless his misguided heart. “ _If_ I _allow_ you to leave for this appointment of yours, you _will_ be making up the time--”

“Yes, yes.” Steve is still nodding along. “Of course.”

“--the day after tomorrow,” Tony concludes, and the look on Steve’s face as the condition dawns on him is priceless. 

“But that’s… Mr. Stark, that’s Christmas,” he damn near whimpers.

“Call it a present,” Tony responds. “I’m giving you the gift of getting out of ridiculous holiday celebrations. No ugly sweaters or stupid red hats or cranberry sauce. Of course, it’s up to you. Christmas or whatever you have to do today. What’s it gonna be?”

Fingers pressing into his eyes, Steve lowers his head and nods as he slumps back into his chair. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll be here on Christmas.”

“Bright and early!” Tony shouts out as he moves away from Steve’s desk.

“Oh, by the way,” Steve replies. “Rhodey is in your office.”

Freezing with his hand on the doorknob, Tony stares at the wooden door. Handcrafted mahogany. Cost him quite a pretty penny, too. Right now, the door feels less like a luxury and more like a burden that’s keeping him out here. And Steve, the shithead, did that on purpose. Tony glances over his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve sasses as he heads out the door. “I didn’t tell him about his wonderful holiday towel.”

If that was anyone other than Steve, Tony’d be kicking his ass to the curb. They both know it. Nice play, Rogers.

**The Fred**

Tony takes in a deep breath. There’s no way that he can scurry out of there without Rhodey knowing that he ditched him so he sucks it up and goes inside. 

“Rhodey,” he greets. 

His friend is seated on the couch in the office and is playing with the remote controlled robot that Tony built when they were kids. He calls it Dummy since he never quite got it to work the way he had in mind. It was the last thing he ever put together. The only time it doesn’t sit gathering dust is when Rhodey comes. 

“Tony,” Rhodey replies as he makes Dummy turn in a circle. He smiles like he’s glad to see him. “Sounded like that appointment of Steve’s was really important. Little rough on ‘im, weren’t you?” When Tony doesn’t answer, Rhodey says, “You know what they say about treating people badly on the way up?”

As he hangs up his suit jacket, Tony chuckles. “Yeah, you get to treat ‘em that way on the way back down.” He reaches into the closet to grab the suit he’ll be changing into for the benefit he’s expected to be at. Which he’d’ve forgotten if not for Steve’s reminder. “It’s great! You get to rough ‘em up twice.”

Rhodey looks up from playing with Dummy with a scowl and a shake of his head. That’s a look Tony knows. Rhodey thinks his joke was in poor taste or immature. While Tony can’t take it back now, he wishes he could. He hates it when Rhodey looks at him like that. 

“You got a minute, Tony?” 

Already starting to change, Tony tells him that he needs to leave so that he can make it to this event on time. He’d like to avoid the inevitable anyway. The reason for his friend’s visit. Rhodey doesn’t quit though, and simply decides to walk down with him. He makes quiet chit chat on the way and, so like Rhodey, smiles almost the whole time. 

Rhodey’s always had this way of taking a negative and making it a positive. He never gives up on something he believes in. Even when they were kids and Rhodey was the only one who would talk to him, he kept insisting that if Tony kept trying, he’d make the rest of their classmates -- each and every one of them three or four years older than Tony; Rhodey included -- would warm up to him.

“Just be yourself,” Rhodey encouraged. “They’ll love you. You’re a people person, Tone. They just need to see that.”

Funnily enough, Rhodey had been right. Once Tony stopped trying to impress people, he became a lot more impressive. 

Out on the sidewalk, there’re tourists snapping pictures of the silver bells the city is draped in and shoppers bustling by with packages, boxes, and bags. Though they have literally nothing to do with Tony, he can’t help despising them all. Especially the man dressed up in a cheap Santa suit and playing the trumpet in front of the fountain. While Tony waits for his driver, Happy, to bring his car around, he calls security to have the man removed. 

“They should all be arrested,” Tony mumbles as he crosses his arms to keep the night’s chill from sinking in. It’s colder than he thought. “Leeches. Every last one of them.”

“Who?” Rhodey asks. Tony points to the Santa that security will be taking care of shortly. Then to the one on the corner across the street collecting for charity. “You know, there are thousands of people who don’t even have common necessities, Tone. A little charity can go a long way.”

“Collecting for the poor,” he grunts with a scoff. “What have the poor ever done for me?”

“Wow, Tony.” Rhodey shakes his head. “That’s what you say when you’re going to a benefit for the Humanitarian Society.”

A smirk whispers along Tony’s mouth. 

“They’re the suckers giving me an award.” Which he’ll chuck in the garbage as soon as possible. He’s not gonna have that displayed next to all his Emmy’s and be a blight among them. “Tis the season for suckers though, isn’t it?”

“You really don’t like Christmas, do you?”

“Like it?” Tony barks an amused laugh. “I love it! It’s cold and people stay home and watch TV. Revenues go up thirty percent all because a bunch of idiots stay home and watch the same mindless crap just because I throw a new title across the screen. And tomorrow night, numbers are projected to go up _fifty_ percent. I’m the biggest fan Christmas ever had!”

“Oh great,” Rhodey states with this bright smile on his face. “Any chance you’ll make it to Christmas dinner this year, then?”

Ugh, there it is. The question Tony wanted to avoid and knew was inevitable. He doesn’t know why Rhodey keeps on doing this when Tony hasn’t come to Christmas dinner in nearly a decade. 

“No,” he answers. “Not this year.”

“Come on, why not?” 

Rhodey doesn’t sound put off at all. Not yet. Like there’s still a chance that he’ll get Tony to change his mind. 

“Don’t start, Rhodey,” Tony grunts. 

“Everyone’ll be there!” he persists. By everyone he means Carol, his wife, and Sam and Maria, two of their oldest friends who are now a couple. Tony hasn’t seen any of them, not even Carol, in at least five years. “It’s been ages, Tony. And it’ll be fun!”

Happy’s finally pulled the car up in front of the place and is now hurrying around to get the door open for Tony. If he took any longer, Tony would chew him out for making him wait as long as he did. 

“Look, Rhodey, have your cool dinner with your friends and family,” he mumbles as he heads towards the car, Rhodey following in tow. “With the singing and the popcorn strings, the roasted chestnuts and the suckling pig--”

“We’ve never had pig.”

“The point is, it’s a crock. A sham, Rhodey.” Rhodey’s face twists up. “The whole Christmas thing with all the pretend hope and sending cards on recycled paper, it’s for kids.” Tony slides into the car and Happy closes the door for him so Tony rolls the window down. “Rhodey, listen, I love seeing you, I really do.” How bout that, he really does? “I, uh, I want you to have a happy new year.”

Tony’s already rolling the window back up, but Rhodey puts his hand over it. Sure, if Tony keeps going, Rhodey’s hand’ll just be crushed, but Rhodey knows he’d never hurt him. Which is why the second Rhodey’s hand appears over the top of the window, Tony pulls his finger away from the button. 

“We’ll save a seat for you, Tony. Just in case you change your mind.” An empty seat that will stay empty. “Have a Merry Christmas, Tony,” he says just as Happy pulls the car away from the curb. 

**The Bob Cratchit**

The subway is packed. Body to body, sardine packed. It’s not all that unusual seeing how it’s the night before Christmas Eve and people are out buying last minute gifts or headed out for holiday parties or just out because it’s an excuse to be out. But the crowds and noise upset Bucky, so Steve holds onto the overhead pole while wrapping an arm around his husband’s waist and keeps him close. Bucky has his head pressed down against Steve’s shoulder and Steve cradles the back of it. 

Someone shouts a laugh on the other end of the car and Bucky squeezes closer to Steve. Wraps his one arm tighter around him.

“You okay, baby?” Steve murmurs right into Bucky’s ear. 

Bucky doesn’t lift his head. He simply shakes it and keeps his face hidden in the folds of Steve’s jacket. Even if Bucky were to try to talk to him, there’s too much chatter for them to have any sort of conversation. Not that it matters. Steve hasn’t heard Bucky’s voice in almost two years. 

“It’s alright,” Steve says. “Only three more stops.” On this long and exhausting ride home from New York University Medical Center. “Are you okay with that? Do you want to get off now?” No, wait. Too many questions at once. “Sorry. Do you want to get off now?”

His husband shifts just enough so that when Steve tilts his chin down they can look into each other's eyes. He looks at him with words floating somewhere in his mind, Steve can see it. _Please_ , he wants to say. _Talk to me. Please_. Bucky’s lips tremble as those words begin to fade away and he buries his face back down with a shake of his head. Answers Steve’s question as best he can. 

Squeezing his eyes closed to keep the tears that prick at him under control, Steve gently rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s neck. 

“Okay. We’re almost there, Bucky.”

Almost home to their tiny Brooklyn apartment that hopefully is filled with their best friends. Steve still needs to tell everyone that he needs to work on Christmas, but that’ll have to wait. It’s not something Steve can think about right now. About Tony’s cold and insensitive counteroffer to make Steve come in on Christmas morning so he could take Bucky to this evening’s appointment with a new doctor.

A specialist. One of the best in the field, they were told. But all they got was more of the same. Form after form to be filled out, nearly hour wait in the waiting room while watching the same stale talk shows on the televisions and then the crushing disappointment when they were once again told the same thing. Until Bucky works through the PTSD more, a prosthetic just isn’t possible. Even if they ever could afford one. 

“Some specialist he was, huh?” Steve comments as they walk back up to street level once they reach their stop. “Two thousand dollars we don’t have just so he could tell us you don’t talk.”

They climb up the stairs slowly after letting the crowd go first. There are steps and precautions that Steve’s learned to help keep Bucky calm. With help from the VA and just learning Bucky’s triggers, they’ve managed something of their own normal routine. Speaking to him like Steve always did usually keeps Bucky calm and gives them both a sense of familiarity and normalcy. 

In fact, Bucky looks at him now with Steve’s irritation mirrored on his face. He might not talk anymore, but things -- most, if not all -- gets through. Progressive mutism is what all the doctors call it. Steve takes him to his therapist and group therapy and for special treatment visits every month. 

“It’s alright, baby,” Steve assures him. “You’ll come back.” He gently fixes his palm to Bucky’s cheek. “I know you will. You take your time. And I’ll be here when you do. I promise.”

When Bucky’s expression begins to blank as it sometimes does, Steve pats his back and loops their arms. Starts to go again only to have Bucky stiffen and plant his feet. Steve turns again to look at him.

“Bucky?”

There are tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, but Bucky tugs a bit on Steve’s arm to pull him in closer and the second he can, Bucky plants a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. The second he pulls away, Bucky starts to walk again. Keeps his arm twined with Steve’s and bringing him along. 

It’s a short walk back to their building. Sometimes it even feels longer having to walk all the way up to the eighth floor. The elevator is always broken. By the time they reach their place, Steve can hear the bustling going on inside. Everyone’s here already. The noise from their little makeshift family never really seems to bother Bucky, so Steve just quickly unlocks the door.

Inside, most of the noise comes from the tiny kitchen. Packed with people. Clint and Laura Barton are already baking cookies with their children while Natasha makes latkas with Jane and Darcy. The place might be small and cramped, but it’s warm and cozy and, right now, festive. There’re red and green paper rings strung up around the whole place and snowflake cutouts taped to the wall. Holiday lights are hanging from the walls and ceilings. A Menorah sits on the window sill. Silver, with the Star of David in the center. Seven of the eight candles are lit. It was Bucky’s grandmother’s. Bucky may not be a believer in anything anymore, but he always liked celebrating the holidays. They have no tree though. 

“Hello?” Steve calls out once he locks the door behind them and starts helping Bucky out of his jacket. 

First answer to that is the excited gasp that comes from the kids and then from the adults as they encourage the excitement.

“Uncle Steve! Uncle Bucky!” 

They’re greeted by the happy cries of the Barton children as they come racing out of the kitchen, the adults laughing as they follow behind. No Peggy and Angie with little Sharon yet it seems. Cooper and Lila charge at Steve while little one-year-old Nathaniel tries to waddle after them only to fall flat on his behind. 

“Uh-oh,” Clint murmurs. “We got a man down.”

Clint scoops him back up and gives him a playful toss up in the air. It’s a little higher than one would expect and even Steve’s eyes go just as wide as Laura’s. 

“Clint!” she scolds. “Not so rough!”

Even Nat marches up to him and punches him in the arm after she safely secures Nathaniel in her embrace. Makes sense seeing how she’s the baby’s namesake and all. 

“Ow!” he chuckles. “C’mon! Little fella’s tough. Just like his mom.”

Even from where he is, Steve can damn near hear the roll of Laura’s eyes but she still scoffs and kisses his cheek. 

“Nice, save,” Jane mutters while Darcy offers Clint a high five, along with a quiet, “Very clever.”

“Uncle Steve?” There’s a tug on his arm and Steve looks down at Cooper. “How come you and Uncle Bucky don’t have a tree?”

“Oh, uh…” Steve tries not to steal a glimpse at Bucky. Like his grandmother’s Menorah, a tree was always one of Bucky’s favorite things. He loved trimming it and putting gifts beneath it and just everything about the holidays. Right now, though, he’s allowed Lila to escort him over to the couch where she stand behind him the cushions putting braids in his hair. “They’re a little too expensive right now.”

“But…”

“Okay!” Nat announces and gathers Cooper up in her arms. “I think it’s time to bake some more!”

Cooper is squealing with giggles as she spins him around, yelling for someone to come save him from Auntie Nat. She puts him down and smacks him on the butt to send him off laughing to his mother. At the same time, Lila climbs out from behind Bucky to go join them again.

“Jane!” Nat calls after them. “No one but you and me and Bucky” -- Bucky glances over like he’s actually been called and looks both nervous and confused -- “can touch the sufganiyot! And maybe Laura!”

Laura happens to be the one who answers since Jane is busy laughing. “Don’t worry! I think they learned the lesson last year!”

As they head back into the kitchen, Clint assumes the spot next to Bucky’s right and gently pets a hand gently over his shoulder while he flips on the television. 

“How’d it go?” Nat whispers. “Anything?”

Steve wishes he could tell her everything that happened today, but he won’t be able to do it right now without breaking down. A hard lump is already forming in his throat. So Steve just shakes his head, and Natasha understands. She puts an arm around his waist for a quick hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she tells him softly. “We’re all here for you guys. You know that.”

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, and then steps away from Natasha to crouch in front of Bucky. 

The television is on, but whatever Clint has left on it -- a quiz show from what it sounds like -- doesn’t seem to hold Bucky’s attention. Not even Steve getting in front of him grabs it. Bucky stares blankly until Steve gently touches his chin. That’s when he pulls out of the fog and actually sees what’s in front of him. He even grins. It’s so small that no stranger would recognize it as such, but the change is enough to make Steve’s heart flutter. 

“Hey, baby,” Steve whispers. Makes Bucky’s head tilt slightly as though he’s confused by the greeting. “I’m gonna take a shower. Okay?” Bucky blinks a few times before nodding. “And you remember what we’re doing tomorrow, right?”

Bucky’s eyes shine for a second. Like the gentle reminder of tomorrow’s events excite him. He even sucks in a quick breath like he means to answer. But the words are still clogged in his throat, and nothing comes out. Appearing a tad disgruntled, Bucky’s face falls. He glances to the side and gently places his hand down on the magazine there. The front cover has a picture of Tony Stark on it for an article about tomorrow’s production. 

“That’s right.” Steve smiles. “You still wanna come with me? See the show being filmed?”

He hopes so. _A Christmas Carol_ was always Bucky’s favorite. Every version of it. The Disney’s rendition probably tops the list. When Bucky leans forward just enough to touch his brow to Steve’s, Steve feels his heart swell. Bucky nods, and Steve lets their lips meet. 

When Steve stands, he pecks the top of Bucky’s head and as he moves away, he glances between Clint and Natasha. They both gives him reassuring nods. Bucky’s safe with them. There’s no need to worry. If only Steve would really listen.

The shower lasts a little longer than Steve intended. Really, it’s the only time he can cry without anyone knowing. So he does. Steve lets loose a string of tears so heavy his chest shakes and his nose leaks and the shower head streams hot water down on him to wash it all away. By the time he’s started to calm down enough that he feels up to getting out, the hot water has run out, steam fills the whole bathroom -- thick and heavy -- and his skin has patches of pink all over it. 

Tossing on his robe, Steve grabs his brand new towel -- courtesy of his ever charitable boss -- and rubs it over his head before stepping across the hall and into the bedroom. There used to be pictures of him and Bucky in there. Their wedding day and happy times. One of Bucky’s therapists suggested taking them down. Said that it was possible the reminders in the bedroom in particular might have been causing Bucky unnecessary stress and pressure. She may have been right, considering just a few nights after they took them down, Bucky finally slept the whole night.

Steve hasn’t been getting much sleep. His stomach hurts every night at the idea of having to get up and be worked to the bone just to get everything perfect and still be criticized. At least Tony Stark seems to have accepted him enough that Steve can -- _sometimes_ \-- voice his opinions. Discontented most of the time, but Stark does listen. It’s his one saving grace. 

The knock on the door pulls Steve out of his thoughts, and for the first time since exiting the shower, he notices the shouts and laughter and noise coming from out in the living room. 

“Steven?” 

Peggy. One of Steve and Bucky’s oldest friends. They all went through basic together and everything. That’s when they were separated for a while, but not before Steve and Bucky eloped. Just days before both Steve and Bucky shipped off. Separately, unfortunately, but they married and had their closest friends by their sides. And they were still there when they came home. Steve for good after his first tour. Peggy after her second. And Bucky… in the middle of his second. 

“Yeah, Peggy,” Steve answers as he seats himself on the corner of the bed. “Come on in.”

The door opens slowly and Peggy sticks her head in first before slipping into the room itself. 

“Hello, my darling,” she greets. “How did it go today?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing new.”

It’s all he has to say on the matter. Peggy understands and moves onto the other matters that no one else has had the nerve to ask about. 

“And… your bonus?”

Letting out an unamused bark of a laugh, Steve runs the towel over his head again and then shows Peggy the _Stark TV_ emblem on the corner of it. 

“Yeah, I’m drying my hair with it.”

“Oh, Steve,” she says disappointedly. Comes over and sits down next to him. “You… you know we’re all here for you. For you and Bucky. Always.”

“I know it, Peg, I just…” Steve sighs. “I don’t know what else to do. And now I have to work on Christmas and--”

“Work on Christmas?”

Oh. Damn. Steve nods and tells her what happened this afternoon. The whole time, Peggy’s face darkens even more. 

“Steve.” She places a hand at the side of his neck. “You’re worth so much more than how he treats you.”

“I know, Peggy. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

They’ve been through this before. Steve and Peggy, and Steve and Natasha, and Steve and Clint, and Steve and everyone. Quit, they tell him. Just quit. It’s simple. He could, of course. But he just can’t. Because where would that leave him? With a ton of bills to pay and medical expenses and without insurance. All in a world with a shitty economy and that doesn’t always treat Vets transitioned to civilian life with open arms. 

One of the kids in the living room starts laughing hard and loud enough that both Steve and Peggy look to the door. It takes Steve moving to realize that there are more tears in his eyes. He quickly wipes them away.

“What’s going on out there?” he asks as he runs the towel through his hair once more. “Anything interesting?”

“Yeah, they’re decorating the tree,” Peggy says. Humor leaking through her voice.

“We don’t have a tree,” Steve remarks.

“You do now.”

Steve first thinks that they all pulled together to get them one. But they’re all struggling, and it’s not something Steve would want them to do. Then he remembers last year and shoots off the bed. Runs out into the living room with Peggy holding in a laugh as he goes. 

“No!” he shouts. “Don’t do it!”

Everyone is laughing as Bucky stands in the middle of the room with garland wrapped around him and lights hanging down over his head. Steve gets into the room just as Angie plugs the lights in. Bucky squints for a second as his eyes adjust and he looks up at Steve with a pouty sort of grin. A look Steve knows. A look he misses. Bucky’s having fun as the Barton kids and Sharon tape paper ornaments to his legs. 

“Oh, god,” Steve chuckles as he makes his way through everyone to get to his husband. All lit up in more ways than one. This was something Bucky used to do for the kids. Before… well, just before. “Look at you.”

That tiny smile on Bucky’s lips widen a bit, and he almost laughs. He doesn’t quite manage it, but Steve can see the amusement on his face and in his eyes and in that dimple. 

“I love you, Bucky,” he whispers. 

This time, when Bucky’s eyes shine, they glisten with tears. He nuzzles their cheeks for a moment, and Steve understands. _I love you, Steve_ , he’s saying. The only way his body will let him right now. 

With Bucky still snuggled against him, and all their friends laughing and having fun around them, Steve’s heart pounds. 

_Please, God,_ he whispers to anyone and no one. _Just a little Christmas miracle. S’all I’m asking for._

**The Jacob Marley**

The benefit was just as miserable as Tony had expected it to be. Bunch of people talking about charity and giving and spreading happiness. Tony had accepted his award with fake enthusiasm, made a speech, and hurried out of there as soon as it was acceptable. He had no desire to engage in mindless chit chat with a whole bunch of people who he has nothing in common with. 

He’s still got a lot of work to do anyway. Papers to go over and deals to look through. Like he discussed with Nick earlier, everything has to go off tomorrow without a hitch. Tony even tries to go over some of his papers in the back of the car as Happy drives him through the even busier-than-usual streets of Manhattan. For some reason though, Tony can’t push Rhodey from his mind tonight. It’s probably all that stupid Steve’s fault. Blindsiding him like that. Kid’s lucky Tony doesn’t really fire him. Well, no, not really. Tony’s kinda lucky Steve hasn’t quit on him. But given the economy and the job market, Tony knows he can push his luck with it.

Regardless of the reason, Tony can’t shake that disappointed look on Rhodey’s face that he saw right before the car pulled away. He has no idea what’s going on with him today. First with that leniency with Steve and letting him leave and now with Rhodey. Tony needs a drink. Something stiffer than the stuff they had at the benefit. 

Tony’s just starting to concentrate on his work when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. 

“Someone better be dead,” he grumbles as he digs into his jacket to grab it. 

His eyes fall on the screen and then go wide when he sees the name lighting up across it. 

_Howard_

Tony squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his fingers across them. When he opens them, the name is cleared and Tony now has a missed call. He checks the call log but it just says it’s a restricted number. Tony rattles his head. Obviously he needs some sleep. Or a heavier drink than he intended. Still, he jumps a bit when the phone vibrates again in his hand. Just once this time. A voicemail.

Sighing, Tony quickly dials his passcode in and brings the phone to his ear. He waits. At first he just hears static. Static and maybe the sounds of someone breathing. Nothing more. Probably just a wrong number. He’s just about to hang up when a voice comes through the static. It’s quiet, but nevertheless, it cuts through the rest of the noise. 

“Tony…”

Nope. No way. Nuh-ah. Not happening.

Tony flings the thing away from him the second he hears that voice. It lands on the floor of the car by his feet and Tony is about to kick it away when he thinks better of it. That was nothing. A trick of the… sound. Auditory problems, that’s all. Obviously that wasn’t really the voice of the late Howard Stark. President of Stark TV. Tony’s father. Who’s been dead for years. 

See, it’s times like these that make Tony wish he’d followed his dreams into mechanical engineering. If he built a phone it wouldn’t act up like that, no way. Still, Tony leaves the phone on the floor for now so he can get back to his work. Not because he’s freaked out at the random sound of his dad’s dead voice coming out of it or anything. He just has no use for faulty pieces of technology. 

Happy finally pulls the car over to the curb in front of Tony’s building. Tony gets out without a word to Happy and waltzes towards the door. The doorman quickly opens it for him and when he enters the building, both security guards stand up to greet him. 

“Good evening, Mr. Stark,” they say in unison. 

Tony stops for just a second and eyes them. He holds back a roll of his eyes and continues down the hall to the elevator. It takes him up to the penthouse where Tony simply steps through the door and the entryway lights glow without him doing a thing.

“Daddy’s home,” he murmurs with a smirk.

“Welcome home, Mr. Stark,” the AI system greets after Tony locks all the bolts on the door. 

The place was set up recently with the new system -- a smart house they’re calling it -- but Tony may have made a few minor tweaks to it. It’s now set up to his own specifications. 

“Hello, Jarvis,” Tony says. “Drop the needle, would ya? It’s too quiet in here.”

“Anything specific, sir?” 

“Something calming.”

It takes just a few moments for the system to pick something to Tony’s tastes and when AC/DC’s _Highway to Hell_ starts playing, Tony smiles. Pushing away from the door Tony slips out of his coat and flings it on the nearest piece of furniture -- that leather couch he can’t remember ever sitting on -- as he hurries to his liquor cabinet. He quickly pours himself a rum and Coke, and just before he’d take his first sip, he peeks up to take a look at himself in the mirror on the wall. Tony smirks and winks at his reflection. 

The glass is just at his lips, the cool liquid just splashing on his tongue, when Tony catches a glimpse of someone else’s reflection in the mirror. Standing behind him. 

He swirls around, half the drink spilling out over the edge of his glass. Tony’s not sure if he’s ready to fight, freeze or flee, but his heart is pounding against his chest. Even more so when he sees no one there. For some reason, he quickly glances back into the mirror. As if seeing someone’s reflection there when there’s clearly no one present will solve this problem rather than raising a new, somewhat evil one. 

But there’s no one there either. No one in the mirror. No one behind him. Tony checks a few times just to be sure and even asks the AI system if anyone has breached the security. 

“There has been no override of the security systems, Mr. Stark.”

Tony must need more sleep and an even heavier drink than he thought. He drops a dish towel over the puddle on the floor and pours some more rum into his glass before heading to his bedroom. As soon as he shuts the door behind him, there’s a knock on it. Just one, but the noise shoots right through Tony’s entire body and he yanks the door open again. For no one. There’s no one out there. 

“Okay, Stark,” he mumbles to himself. “Keep it together.” Tony closes the door again and takes a glimpse of himself in the mirror over his dresser. “You’re invincible.” 

Taking another sip of his drink, Tony starts undoing his tie with every intention of changing into sweats and a t-shirt. Another knock on the door tosses a wrench at that idea. Three knocks this time and Tony practically trips over his own two feet. 

“H-hello?” he stutters. “St-Steve?”

Steve’s the only one with any sort of access to his home since Tony’s sent him on errands here before. Plus, he’s one of the few people Tony trusts isn’t gonna fuck shit up on him. Steve might hate the ground Tony walks on, but he’s too good of a person to do some petty shit like spit in his food. 

But Steve doesn’t answer. No one does, and the knocking continues. 

“Whoever’s out there,” Tony shouts. “This is a private home!”

The answer to that is the knocking getting harder. Violently even. Enough that the door actually starts to shake, and Tony dashes over to his desk. Dropping his glass down on top of it, he struggles to yank the top draw open where he keeps a loaded handgun just in case some disgruntled pisson Tony’s, well, pissed on over the years decides to take revenge. 

Fear gushes through Tony as the pounding on the door continues. It trembles and shudders, and when it fly off its hinges in a smoky explosion, Tony ducks behind the desk to keep from being stuck by any of the debris. 

“Nice digs, nice digs,” someone says, and Tony’s trying not to think about all those home invasion stories or, even worse, those way-out-there horror stories that he really hopes are just as fictional as they claim. “Not too shabby.”

Peeking over the top of the desk, Tony… doesn’t see a walking, talking corpse. Definitely not. There’s no way he’s staring at a decaying body covered in dust and cobwebs. And he’s definitely not seeing that walking, talking corpse going over to the private liquor stash that Tony keeps in his bedroom and beginning to mix a drink. 

Since he doesn’t see any of that, Tony takes aim at the intruder causing him strange corpse-seeing hallucinations and pulls the trigger.

“Bam!” he shouts as the first bullet goes through the arm. “Kaplow!” Another goes through his chest. “Boom!” Several more through the torso. “Kablowy!” 

The last shot Tony fires ends up shattering the glass bottle. Instead of reacted at all to the bullets that have gone through him, whoever’s holding the bottle glances down at the mess of liquor and crystal shards spread across the floor. He takes a glimpse over his shoulder to where Tony stands. Gun -- now emptied of bullets -- still held tightly in outstretched arms. 

“I don’t mind if you hit me, son,” he says. “But watch the Captain Morgan.”

With those words, he holds the glass up in a toast to Tony and then drinks as if nothing’s happened at all. He’s still drinking when liquid starts spilling out of the bullet holes in some cartoonish comedic way that only furthers Tony’s terrified confusion. 

“What…” Somehow, Tony manages to find his voice. “What…” Though it seems there’s only one word it can form. “What…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Excuse me while I slip into something a bit more comfortable.”

All he does is turn around once, but when he’s facing Tony again -- Tony, who still has his arms held out in front of him -- he looks completely different. No more decaying skin. No more ripped and torn up clothes. No more cobwebs. Now there’s a young man dressed in an old zoot suit. Hair dark and coiffed, a thin line of facial hair. He grins at Tony. Tony’s never actually seen this younger version of this man in person, but he knows who it is. 

“D-Dad?”

“That’s right, sonny,” Howard agrees. “How you doin’?”

“But…” Oh this is weird. “You’re… you’re… d...d…” 

“Dead?” Howard stuffs his hands in his pockets and strolls closer. “That’s right. Ten years last month.” 

“Ten?” As he gets closer, Tony takes aim with his empty gun again. “From the look of you before I wouldn’t’ve guessed more than… seven years. Tops.”

“Always with that mouth on you,” he snickers and steps right in front of Tony. “You can put the gun down, Tony. It’s empty. Plus… I’m dead! You can’t exactly hurt me.”

Finally lowering his arms, Tony just stares at him for a second. Maybe he’s asleep? That might explain a few things. 

“So, Pop,” he drawls. “How’s the afterlife treatin’ ya? I’ve heard the party’s sorta dead?”

“Oh, Tony,” Howard sighs. “Tony, Tony, Tony.” He points at him. “You are in trouble. _Big_ trouble.”

“Okay.” He walks behind his desk. Sure, he can have a conversation with his dead father. No problem. “Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that you’re right and I am in trouble. What exactly does that mean?”

“Look at me.” 

Tony doesn’t know why he’d tell him to do something he’s already doing. He can’t even take his eyes off of him. 

“Okay?”

“No, _look_ at me.” 

Howard points at the mirror. When Tony follows his direction, he tries not to react much to what he sees but it’s hard not to when the image in the reflection is that decaying zombie from before. 

“Yeesh,” Tony mumbles and then looks back at the less-dead-looking Howard. “Like I said. Not a day over seven years.”

“Tony, you’re gonna end up _just like_ this if you don’t change.” He pats his chest and despite the clean looking suit, a cloud of dust flies out of it. So much that it makes Tony cough a bit. “You’re gonna be doomed. Just like me. One minute I was living the high life, a car accident later and I’m worm meat.”

“No, no, _no_!” Tony rattles his head and lets out a dark laugh. “You’re not worm meat! _You_ are an hallucination brought on by bad steak or the soup or the lobster or the cake! Yeah, the cake! At the Humanitarian Benefit! See that? You let your guard down for a second and--”

Howard slams his hands down on the desk and more dust comes off of him as the skin on his hands turn back to the rotted way they were before.

“Oh, cut the crap, son,” Howard mutters. “I had it all! Captain of the industry. Fame. Riches. Men feared me. Women adored me.”

“Come on,” Tony chuckles. “You never cheated on mom.” If there’s one thing Tony’s sure of, it’s that Howard may have been a distant asshole, but he was faithful to his wife. “You tied yourself down. Handcuffed yourself to _one_ woman.”

“Yes! I was! And I made a mess of everything!” he yells. “Don’t waste your time like I did mine!”

“Waste?” Tony can’t believe his ears. “You were the best in the business!”

“ _You_ should have been my business! You! Your mother! _Mankind_! Charity and mercy and kindness!” Howard continues even with Tony shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s not too late for you! You don’t have to end up like me!” He reaches across the desk and grabs Tony’s shirt to pull him in closer. “You can be _saved_ , Tony. You are going to be visited by three ghosts.”

Tony blinks and then rolls his eyes. He can’t be serious.

“Three ghosts, huh?” he deadpans. “Where have I heard this before?”

Howard ignores him. “Expect the first one tomorrow at noon.”

“Damn,” Tony mumbles. “Tomorrow’s no good for me. In fact the whole rest of the week’s kind of a wash. But maybe next week we can all get together? You, me, and the ghosts? We can trade war stories.”

Tightening the grip he’s got on his shirt, Howard shoves Tony into his chair. “This is no joke, Tony!”

“Well, I may be able to fit you in for a quick brunch…”

“You can be saved!” Howard shouts, and as he does his body quickly transforms back to the dead form. “ _You_ have time!” He starts to back away then and holds up three fingers. “I should have told you, a long time ago…” He shakes his head. “I may have created an empire, but… you, Tony, were always my greatest creation.”

Howard turns to leave then, and Tony, on the off chance that this really is the ghost of his father and not the side effects of tainted meat, feels the need to ask one question.

“Dad?” Howard keeps walking, but looks over his shoulder. “How’s… how’s Mom?”

That gets Howard to stop. He freezes for a moment before turning around. Despite the dead and decaying appearance, Tony thinks he looks sad. 

“I don’t know, Tony,” he whispers. “What do you think my punishment is?”

Before Tony can even think of a reply to that, Howard bursts in an explosion of dust and smoke. It’s so powerful that it knocks Tony’s chair back. He lands back with a hard thud that dazes him. Tony doesn’t even realize that his phone has slid out of his pocket and landed next to his head until he hears it’s on speaker and a call is being made. 

Tony can only stare at it as his end rings a few times. When a voicemail picks up, his heart twists. 

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Pepper Potts. I’m not available to take your call, but if you’d leave your name, number, and a brief message, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

The beep that follows feels like a gunshot to start a race. Tony snatches the phone up and scrambles to his feet.

“Pepper!” He doesn’t mean to yell into the mouthpiece, but it happens anyway. “It’s me.” Tony squeezes his eyes closed. “Tony. Tony Stark. I know it’s been…” He glances at his watch. “At least ten years since we’ve talked, but I _really_ need to talk to you. Something terrible’s happened.” Tony glances around his bedroom only to find everything exactly as it should be. Door back up, bottle of rum tucked safely on the shelf, everything clear of dust and debris. “Or… maybe not, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I really need to talk to you no matter what time it is. You can call this number or try my office.”

Tony quickly leaves the number, twice for good measure, and then ends the call. He takes another look around the room. Everything being back to normal does nothing to slow his pulse or still his nerves. Just to make things a little extra odd, when Tony goes to gulp down the rest of his drink, he can’t. 

Not with the filthy coat of dust floating along the top of it. 

**The Belle**

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony spins around and almost causes Steve to slam into him which would be quite unfortunate since Steve is holding a cup of coffee. But ever since that… dream, yes, dream, last night, Tony’s been a bit on edge all day. So having someone call out his name on his way back into the office even after sending Steve out for Starbucks is just another thing to make him jump out of his skin. 

“Steven!” he shouts. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“You’d need a heart for that,” Steve mumbles before catching himself.

His eyes go wide and his face loses all traces of color. But Tony’s too tired and much too aggravated to bother with his assistant’s smart ass remark, and instead just grabs the cup of coffee he knows is meant for him. 

“Is that _all_ , Steve?” 

“Uh…” He clears his throat like he’s not sure if he’s just gotten away with that statement or not. “No, sir.” Tony’s taking a sip of the coffee -- made to his specifications -- and rolling his hand through the air to hurry Steve up. “You’re, uh, you’re wanted on the set.”

Of course he is. They’ve needed him all morning long. What’s that expression again? What can go wrong, will go wrong? Yeah, that’s the kind of morning Tony’s having. First there was the incident with the woman who had a heart attack while watching Tony’s new commercial. Tony still maintains that it was something she ate and has nothing to do with his ad. Then there was the mishap with the blue paint on the set. Tony thought it was common sense that they didn’t use electric blue in the 1800s, but apparently it’s not. They’re still working on fixing the dancers’ costumes to meet Nick’s approval. 

Needless to say, it’s been a bit of a stressful day. Add the pressure of it being Christmas Eve and Tony needed to step out for some fresh air even if he’d already sent Steve out for coffee just for him. There’s plenty of refreshments inside, but Tony was craving his drink from Starbucks. 

“Right,” Tony groans. “Great. Let’s go.” He _is_ talking to Steve, but something else has caught Steve’s attention. “Uh, hello?”

Steve peeks back at him for a heartbeat before looking over at whatever else must be more interesting than keeping his job. 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve mutters and is already walking away. “I’ll be right there.”

“Uh, I _am_ still your boss, y’know!”

A flick of Steve’s hand is the acknowledgement he gets to that. And Tony just stands there, dumbfounded as Steve approaches the man sleeping on the bench by the curb. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Tony grumbles as he watches Steve talk to the man for a minute before reaching into his pocket and giving him some money. It then looks like Steve is giving him directions. Tony can hear Steve wish the man happy holidays and then he heads back over. The second he’s in earshot, Tony asks, “Really?”

Steve halts and looks confused by Tony’s question. “What?”

“How much do I pay you?”

The new question makes Steve crinkle his face. “The bare minimum. Why?”

“Apparently, it’s too much if you’re giving it away so easily.”

Tony watches as Steve’s brain finally catches up with his when he peers over his shoulder. The homeless man isn’t there anymore, but he must get the idea.

“I… I still have more than some people,” Steve tells him. “Do you really think anyone chooses poverty? Not everyone has had the same opportunities you did, Mr. Stark. There are people who are products of the system or trapped in the system and families who need to choose between food or…” Looks like Steve has a little trouble with this part of his cry-me-a-river story. “Medicines for the loved ones. You know how many people die because of poverty every year?”

Tony rolls his eyes as he makes for the front door of the office again. This time, Steve follows and opens the door for him. 

“Hey, whatever decreases the surplus population.” Tony ignores the startled glare Steve throws at him. “That man is probably just going to buy drugs, you know.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve grunts. “And even if he is--” Steve shrugs “--I still have more than him. It’s the right thing to do. The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and dreaming dreams, but in active charity and willing service.”

Since they’re only going down the hall to get to the set, Tony doesn’t say anything to that right away. He does, however, make a comment right before they go through the doors.

“Did you just make that up?”

“No,” Steve replies. “That was Longfellow. But I stand by it.”

Tony scoffs. “Steve?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Go find work to do before you have no work to do.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Steve goes off then. Not before a roll of his eyes, but he does go off, making a quick stop of the refreshment table and grabbing a few cookies, which is strange because for as long as he’s known Steve, Tony’s never seen him eating sweets. Must be the holidays. 

Within moments, Tony is being bombarded with problems that he needs to fix. Steve has been by several times to bring most of them to his attention since very few people have to nerve to do it themselves. There’s the air time between commercials and more wardrobe malfunctions that need to be addressed before actual malfunctions happen during the live production and problems with the caterer and… 

“Tony?”

“ _What_?” Tony groans before realizing that no one, not even Steve, would be calling him by his first name. 

“Tony!”

He spins around looking for the source. There are enough people going this way and that way and that way and this way so it takes him a few seconds, but when he spots her, his heart melts. 

“Pepper?” he murmurs, and has to remember how to walk again so that he can go over to her.

“Hi.” She smiles. Full and bright and happy. “I’m sorry for just showing up like this. I didn’t get your message until this morning and I tried to call your phone but it went straight to voicemail.” That’s because it died and Tony hasn’t turned it back on even though it’s charged. “I called your office number but they said you weren’t in yet and then I called back but they said you were busy so I…” Pepper laughs at her own rambling. “You look different, Tony.”

“Well, it’s been a while,” Tony agrees. “But you look exactly the same.”

She’s just as stunning as she was the first time he laid eyes on her. Light red hair and bright blue eyes. Freckles that trail over her nose. Tony can’t help but smile. 

“It’s your hair,” she tells him. Tony runs his fingers through it. “I’ve never seen it so short. Makes you look grown up.”

“Ah, but I can tell you with certainty that it’s just the hair and nothing else.”

“Oh, that’s not surprising.”

Pepper chuckles when Tony does. She always did know how to go back at him in a way that made him laugh. And to get him to shut up. 

“Mr. Stark?” someone calls from across the set. 

Giving Pepper a saucy smirk, Tony holds a finger up so he can address whatever problem needs his attention now. It’s simple. Just an approval for the dancing with the new costumes. 

“See!” he exclaims to no one in particular. “I bet it would’ve worked fine with the original costumes.” Tony shakes his head and can see the apprehension start to grow among the crew as though they’re nervous he’s going to have them switch back again. “That works,” he says instead, and a sigh of relief breathes around the entire set. 

Everyone gets back to work, leaving Tony free to talk with Pepper. It may have been a decade since seeing her, but, really, being face to face again makes it feel like not a day has gone by. 

“How are you, Tony?” Pepper asks. “Last night you sounded like you’d seen a ghost.”

 _Three ghosts_.

Feeling his face fall, Tony tries to keep himself collected. 

“A ghost?” Tony whispers. Then remembers the way he panicked over the phone last night. “You mean the phone call?” Pepper nods. This is where Tony needs to think of something quick. “You know, I came across your number and I just had to call you.”

Pepper’s not fooled though. Not even a little. Her lips just pull together in the slightest of purses and her eyes narrow.

“I know you, Tony,” she says. “I know that voice. That was the scared Tony.”

“Excuse me, _Tony_.”

Now standing next to Tony is Steve. Okay, maybe he does have the nerve to use Tony’s first name. There’s always a first time for everything.

“Around here,” Tony states. “Most people call me Mr. Stark.”

“Uh-ha,” Steve grunts. “We have a problem.”

“I’ll bet. What?”

Steve holds up his hand with the tiny cage he’s carrying and in it is a little fuzzy mouse. Pepper lets out a quiet _aww_ and smiles at it as she leans in closer for a better look. In his other hand, Steve shows Tony a tiny pair of antlers. Tony can’t remember who’s bonehead idea it was to add a door mouse to the production, but it was okayed weeks ago. He would pull it now if they weren’t hours away from air time.

“They can’t get the antlers to stick on this little guy,” Steve tells him. “They’ve tried a bunch of different things, but nothing seems to work.”

“Have you tried staples?” Tony suggests. 

By the roll of Steve’s eyes, he obviously doesn’t take Tony serious in the least, but Pepper throws a glare between the both of them.

“Staples?” she exclaims and growls at Tony, “Don’t you dare!” She looks back at Steve. “If you staple that poor mouse’s head I’ll have the humane society down here so fast you won’t even be able to say the word handcuffs before you’re in them.”

Tony can’t help the grin that pulls up on his mouth at the spunk and passion Pepper still has. Not to mention the impressed -- maybe just a little intimidated -- look on Steve’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Steve answers her. “He’s not serious.” He turns a cold eye on Tony, and Tony’s not sure if he believes that or not. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt this little fella anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s great, Mother Teresa,” Tony grunts. “Nix the damn mice if you have to. Now, beat it, kid, I’m busy.”

With a click of his tongue, Steve shakes his head and goes back to do whatever it is that Steve does whenever he’s not at Tony’s side. 

“Staples?” Pepper questions when they’re alone again.

“Oh, come on,” Tony chuckles. “I wasn’t serious.” He was. But only a little. “Same old Pepper. Still trying to save the world.”

She had been going to business school last time Tony saw her, working for a degree in management. Yet most of her free time she spent volunteering for several organizations. She even talked about joining the Peace Corps.

Tony’s remark has her loosening up again.

“Are you still trying to run it?”

He laughs the way only Pepper can make him laugh. Until he notices the man standing off to the side with a cookie in his hand. The man is wearing a red henley and jeans and a cap on his head, and looks tired and lost. He’s away from all the work and crowds and doesn’t belong here. Tony may not pay any attention to the nobody’s around here, but he knows he’d remember seeing a ragged looking, one armed man walking around his building. 

“Hey!” Tony yells, and catches the attention of most of the people around him, but not the one he’s yelling at. “Get out of here!”

“You called me,” Pepper says. “Remember?”

“No, not…” Tony ignores that and gently guides her out of his way. This wouldn’t be the first time some homeless derelict has wandered into the building in search of warmth and free food. Not on his watch though. “Who are you? What’re you doing here?” 

As Tony marches over, the man must realizes he’s headed for and yelling at him. He drops the cookie and tries to hide behind the nearest prop. Not having any of that, Tony quickens his pace and grabs him by the front of the shirt to keep him from going anywhere. 

“You little worm,” Tony growls as he pins this guy against the prop brick wall he just tried to hide behind. “How’d you get in here?” The man just looks at him like he’s horrified. Cheeks paled and eyes filling with tears as he frantically glances around like someone might come to his rescue. “Oh, you’re not gonna say anything, huh?” His mouth does open a few times but only a few broken sounds come out. “Well, maybe you’ll be happier answering a few questions downtown.”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony’s ripped away from this man by Steve who quickly gets between them and moves the man behind him. Steve looks like a giant shield and the man clings to him. “This is _my husband_!” 

“Alright then you beat him,” Tony grumbles, but Steve’s already turned around to check on his husband’s well being as though Tony’s actually lashed out and slapped the guy. “What is he doing here?”

Steve is muttering things to his husband -- _are you okay, Bucky? Don’t worry, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you_ \-- and petting his hand over his head. Talk about overprotective coddling. 

“I thought it’d be fun for him to come and watch today,” Steve finally answers Tony. “A Christmas Carol is his favorite.”

“Fun?” Tony growls. “Do you see _anyone_ around here having fun?”

Now that Steve’s husband looks less nervous -- his breathing has settled and there’s color back to his face and he no longer looks like he might burst into tears -- Steve turns back around. Tony is about to make a remark about putting them both to work when Steve’s face grows dark enough that Tony wonders if he might actually take a swing at him.

“Mr. Stark,” he says softly, and yet somehow Tony feels more threatened than he ever has in his life. “If you touch my husband again, I will break your fucking hands.”

That’s all Steve says before slipping his arm over his husband’s shoulders and guiding him away. Tony is left flabbergasted and tonguetied. A very unusual combination for him, but he’s never had Steve talk to him like that before. Never thought a guy like that was capable of making such a threat. In a way that makes Tony believe every single word of it. 

“Tony,” Pepper murmurs. “Why are you so angry?”

“I’m…” Angry? He’s not… “I’m not…” Tony looks at her and picks out the only thing he could possible nitpick about to get the topic away from this one. “Why haven’t you learned how to button a coat?”

Only one is out of place, all the way at the bottom and Tony takes it upon himself to start fixing it for her. Pepper chuckles once. 

“I was in a rush,” she says. 

Their eyes meet when Tony finishes and for a few heartbeats they just stare at each other. Tony can feel the world melting away.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to have called so late,” he comments. “I hope I didn’t wake your husband or kids or anything.”

“Oh, no.” Pepper shakes her head. “No, I never got married.”

It’s wrong for that to make Tony feel the slightest bit happy. Pepper was always driven and passionate and wanted to get married, too. She wanted to have a big family with children. At one time, that dream of hers included Tony. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to share that dream. At one time.

“How about you?” she asks. 

He could tell her that there hasn’t been even one person that he’s considered marrying or even dating for that matter since they split up. But he doesn’t. 

“Um, no.” Around the set, workers are beginning to hammer as they put together backdrops and props. It’s getting noisier and noisier by the second. “Hey, would you please hold with the hammering!” Tony shouts.

“Look, I should go,” she says. “You’re busy.”

“No!” Tony practically squeaks. She’s here. Right here and Tony hasn’t realized how much he’s missed her until now. “Please!” He shouts to the crew again. “Stop with the hammering!”

“Tony, what really happened last night?” Pepper asks like she doesn’t even hear the hammering. 

“Pepper, you know, I had some… some bad clams,” he lies. It’s the hammering. It must be messing with his ability to think straight. “We’re not sure yet.”

Pepper doesn’t buy it. Has no doubt in her mind that Tony’s bullshitting her right now. She even reaches into her bag for her wallet and pulls out a business card.

“Well, if it happens again, you can call me.” She hands the card over. “If you can’t get me on my cell, you can try me there.”

The card is for some place called Operation Outreach. “Is this where you work?”

“Um…” Pepper is pulling her gloves on. “Sort of. I started the organization. It’s a homeless and rehab center.”

“Look, I’m definitely gonna call,” Tony remarks over the annoying sounds of hammering. “I mean, I’m quite the seafood enthusiast. Going without clams is like going without air.”

When he shouts once again for the hammering to pause, he’s sure he’s going to kill someone. But when he looks back to where Pepper had been standing just a few feet from him, she’s gone.

“Pepper?”

“Mr. Stark?”

It’s probably just because it’s Steve -- and after what just happened, it’d grab Tony’s attention anyway -- but Tony turns to look at him without yelling first. 

“What?”

There’s still a hard edge to Steve, but it seems he’s moving past that little incident of threatening to break Tony’s hands. 

“It’s the Times, sir,” he says and holds out his cell to him. “They’d like a comment on the woman who had a heart attack.”

“It slapped her in the face,” Tony mumbles. “Grabbed her attention. It was probably just something she ate.”

Steve flicks his eyebrows up and starts to tell whoever’s called that Tony claims it was something the woman ate. Tony snatches the phone from him and quickly makes it sounds like that was all Steve’s words and not his. Steve rolls his eyes -- really, Tony should just film him doing that so Steve can play it back and not let his eyes get stuck that way -- and waits there as all that damn hammering is still going on. Tony slips his hand over the mouthpiece.

“Would you _please_!” he yells. “For the love of _God_ , stop with the _god damn hammering_!”

This time, Tony’s shouts do the job and the hammering quits. The second it does, however, a backdrop falls over, falls onto a lamppost which lands on the refreshments table and sends food flying everywhere. It splatters on the floor and on the set and over some people.

Both Steve and Tony look back at each other at the same time. Tony hangs up on whoever he’s talking with and hands the phone back to Steve. Steve takes it cautiously, like it’s a ticking timebomb.

“I’m going to lunch,” Tony whispers.

“Okay.”

Tony leaves then and storms out, ignoring the satisfied look on Steve’s face. 

**The Ghost of Christmas Past**

The restaurant is packed and there are carolers singing in the corner all dressed up in old winter clothes from the turn of the century. All the chatter is soft and polite, mixed in with sounds of forks and knives touching plates. It smells of starchy food and coffee and cakes. The place is a little stuffy, but not uncomfortably so. 

Tony sits across from Nick as they prepare to share a meal together. Nick has ordered himself a drink and Tony hasn’t ordered the same as Nick because he doesn’t drink it and he thinks the idea of ordering the same drink as another person to impress them is ridiculous. So Tony’s ordered himself his normal as he gives the rundown of the day to Nick.

“I’m on top of everything,” he says. “You’re gonna have nothing to report.”

“How about your narcissistic tendencies and difficulties working with others?”

Pretending to think on that a moment, Tony drums his fingers over the table. “Agreed. But you have to admit, I get the job done. And with style.”

“Style,” Nick grumbles. “Look, Tony, you’ve been stretched pretty thin lately and I hate to see you that way.” Something about the way Nick says that makes Tony think he’s telling the truth. “So I thought you should have someone work with you.”

“What? Who?”

“Hey, Anthony!” Oh no. Not this yuppy. “We meet again. Justin Hammer, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Tony says as Justin takes the seat across from him.

“Uh oh, look at this…” Justin reaches over the table to brush something off of Tony’s shoulder. “Blue is a bad color this time of year.” 

Blue? The suit Tony’s wearing is clearly black. Tony would make a comment but Justin’s phone starts beeping and he quickly takes it out to switch the alarm off. 

“Noon,” Justin says a bit more enthusiastically than one normally would when announcing the time. “Time for my vitamins.”

As Justin goes into some spiel about the importance of health and some new fad, Tony feels his glands getting tighter in his throat.

 _You are going to be visited by three ghosts_ , Howard had said. _Expect the first one by noon…_

Justin is still going. Still talking only now it’s about how he’s only here to help Tony and that he doesn’t need to see him as a threat. All his words start circling around Tony and it’s suddenly very hot in here. There’s a waiter off to the side that Tony would swear is staring at him, too. Eyes narrowed in on Tony with a big, mischievous sneer on his face. Tony swears every time he blinks the waiter is somewhere else. Either that or there are several lookalikes running around this place. 

“You know, my old coach used to say there’s no ‘I’ in t-e-a-m…”

“Aha!” Tony suddenly exclaims and points at Justin, effectively cutting him off. Both Justin and Nick just stare at him as they wait for an explanation to Tony’s random outburst. Not that he really has one, but Tony does ask, “Are you him?” When Justin just glances at Nick, Tony says it again. “Are you him?”

“Are you _he_ ,” Justin comments. “Is what I think you mean.”

“Tony?” Nick questions when Tony starts wiping the sweat off his brow with one of the cloth napkins. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Tony catches a glimpse of that waiter again. He’s still giving Tony that look, but now it’s accompanied by a laugh. Several laughs at that. Like there really are more than one of him and they’re now all laughing at the same time. “I’m… I think I need some air.”

He trips once on the way out, over his own two feet and almost knocks the hostess over. Air. That’s all he needs. Some fresh air.

“Get me a cab,” Tony says to the doorman as soon as he steps outside. “Hurry up.”

“Certainly, Tony,” he replies as he steps away from Tony and towards the curb to do that. 

A chill runs down Tony’s spine.

“How… how do you know my name?”

The doorman stops. “I know everything, Tony.” He turns then and Tony is now face to face with that creepy waiter. “You see, I’m Loki. I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past.”

Cold rushes around Tony. Even more when Loki suddenly moves his hand like he’s twirling something and a golden staff appears in it. Tony would like to scream. He knows he tells him to stay away from him, but Loki’s grin just deepens as he touches the top of the staff to Tony’s chest. 

The second the staff touches him, Tony feels lightheaded and dizzy. Everything around him spins around so fast that all he can see is one giant blur. Feels as though the ground is yanked out from under him and when it comes back, Tony could swear he falls over only he’s still upright. 

“What… what the hell… did you just do to me?”

“Oh nothing,” Loki replies as he twirls his staff once and pins it under his arm. “I just… brought you home, is all.”

Of course, Tony’s first thought it to argue with him because he’s not home. At least, not the home that he lives in _now_. But when Tony gets a glance at where he’s been taken, he gets it. 

“This is… this is where I grew up.”

“Ooo,” Loki deadpans. “Very observant.”

“Okay, yeah, I get it,” Tony scoffs as he looks around his childhood home. “You’re gonna show me my parents and I’m supposed to get all weepy, right? Well, it’s not gonna happen!”

“That’s a very common thought,” he says. “We’ll see if you’re really made of iron.”

Loki moves away from him then and goes towards the door to Howard’s office where Howard used to spend a lot of his time. He moves as though he knows exactly where he’s going and considering he’s a ghost -- or this is just a very vivid dream that Tony would really like to wake up from -- he probably does know which way to go. 

As soon as he gets near the door, Loki doesn’t stop to open it. He just keeps walking and goes right through it. Tony follows behind and hesitates before attempting to do the same, only to find that he’s still very tangible and slams into the door. On the other side of it, he can hear Loki laughing. 

The door opens from the other side and Loki smirks. “Ta da!”

“That’s very funny,” Tony grumbles as he steps in behind Loki.

“Isn’t it though?” Loki remarks. “I’ve always found myself on the humorous side.”

Tony would argue, but then he gets a glimpse of what Loki’s brought him to. Out in front of him is Howard, and there’s a film crew in there with him. Tony has a glimpse of this memory in his mind. Something about filming a commercial for the network. 

“Everything is achievable through imagination,” Howard greets into the camera. “Better living, better technology, better world.” He steps to the side and the camera follows him as he makes his way to a wall of posters featuring that season’s lineup. “I’m Howard Stark and I’m here because my imagination…” 

He cuts off with a scoff and marches back over to where he started. There’s a glass of rum and Coke on the desk and he picks it up to drink the whole thing in one gulp. Howard immediately starts pouring another glass. 

 

It goes on like that a few times, and Tony, for the life of him, can’t figure out why Loki would have wanted to show him this. He’s not even here. What difference does it make if Howard can’t seem to ever be satisfied by how he’s presenting himself on camera and continues to drink every time he starts over and even bends over at one point like he wants moon the camera. 

To be honest, Tony’s not even sure why any of this feels familiar at all. He’s not here and remembers this room being off limits without getting explicit permission to be in it first. 

Tony’s about to say as such to Loki when the door opens behind him. Loki doesn’t bother turning to see, like he already knows what’s going to happen, but Tony looks. And if Tony thought this day was weird already, it’s nothing compared to seeing him as a four-year-old child walk into a room. 

Little him walks by him-him and Loki, and no one else who’s actually experiencing this notices him. None of the crew and not even Howard notice little him as he slips behind the desk where Howard keeps figurines of the show _Trek Wars_ that Howard created and produced. Aliens and intergalactic fights for justice. And now Tony remembers. He loved those toys. Even though…

 

“Tony! Don’t touch those!” Howard shouts, startling little him enough that he drops one of the alien dolls. “Those aren’t _toys_! Maria?! Maria, where--” His wife and Tony’s mother is suddenly in front of him. “--Oh. There you are. Maria, c’mon, get him out of here.”

“Come on, Howard,” Maria sighs. “It’s Christmas Eve. He just wanted to spend time with you.”

“I don’t have time for him right now,” Howard growls, and Tony can remember hearing that when he was small. It hurts just as much now as it did then. “Look, send him off with Jarvis to get some ice cream. Maybe I’ll be done in here when they get back.”

They bicker over this a bit more, but in the end, Maria scoops little Tony up into her arms and promises that she and their butler, Jarvis, are going to take him out for ice cream. Little Tony wraps his arms around his mother’s neck and nestles his head on her shoulder. Just as their walking by Tony and Loki, little him hugs her and says he’s sorry for making daddy mad.

“You didn’t, Tony angel,” Maria assures him. “Daddy’s just very busy. He loves you very much, honey. I love you, Tony.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.” 

“Is there dust in here?” Loki whispers. “Or are you not as invincible as you previously assumed?”

Tony wipes at his eyes as he watches his mother leave with little him. He doesn’t know for sure if what he has playing out in his mind -- of his mom and Jarvis spending a few hours searching for an open ice cream parlor and actually ending up on Long Island to find one -- is real or not, but if it is, he’s sure Howard wasn’t a part of any of it. 

The Howard he’s watching right now stares after them until the director of the commercial calls his attention and Howard rattles his head.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Howard whispers. Mostly to himself it seems, since it’s not loud enough for those on the other side of the room to hear. “I shoulnd’t’ve done that.” Someone calls for his attention again, and Howard looks over at them all. “That was my son,” he says. “He’s so smart. You know I got him set of tinker toys for his birthday? I did.” No one is responding to him so Howard just goes on. “He built a ferris wheel in just a little over an hour.” That ferris wheel stayed in the living room for almost two years. Tony remembers. “Anyway.”

Howard clears his throat and tells them to start rolling again. 

“More dust?” Loki questions.

“I was _moved_ ,” Tony grumbles as he wipes at his eyes again. “By a father’s refusal to even talk to his own son on Christmas Eve.”

“Of course.”

“Look, just get me out of here, okay?”

“Glady.”

That staff touches Tony’s chest again, and he’s pretty sure that this time it’s even worse than the first time. Especially since when the floor comes up from under him this time, he’s surrounded by a science classroom filled with teenagers. They’re all gathered around one lab table and when Tony doesn’t move any closer to them, Loki waves a hand out. 

“We can do this all day, if you’d like,” he says. “I have all the time in the world. You however…”

“Alright, alright,” Tony grunts. “I’m going.”

Tony walks through the room to where the crowd is huddled. This is almost twenty years ago. Tony recognizes some of the kids here and is just as shocked at seeing eighteen-year-old-him as he was when he saw little-him. Next to eighteen-year-old-him is Rhodey. They’re both laughing like a pair of hyenas as they prepare for this experiment.

“So, Rhodey!” Eighteen-year-old-him shouts. “Do we have the liquid nitrogen?”

“We do, in fact, have the liquid nitrogen, Tony,” Rhodey answers, and even lifts up the canister so all the kids can see it. 

“Great, great!” Eighteen-year-old-Tony holds up a plastic liter bottle. “Okay, Rhodey, so what happens when we pour the liquid nitrogen into this?”

“Nothing!”

“That’s right!” he laughs. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“But…”

Eighteen-year-old-Tony lifts his eyebrows. “Trust me, guys, this is the _best_ kind of but.”

Rhodey holds a thumb up before he goes on. “If it’s poured in there and the cap is screwed on very tight? Well, the pressure might… build a little.”

“So, what we’re going to do here…” Eighteen-year-old-Tony pulls a garbage pail out from under the desk. “Is pour some warm water in this…” Rhodey does just that. “And then we’ll put our sealed up bottle in it and just for fun…” Rhodey holds up a garbage bag. “We’ll be adding fifteen hundred ping pong balls to the mix.”

Tony closes his eyes with a chuckle as he watches eighteen-year-old-him and Rhodey rush around to do that. Eighteen-year-old-him fills the plastic bottle with the liquid nitrogen and screws the cap on before hurrying and placing it in the garbage pail filled with warm water. As soon as he pulls his hand out, Rhodey is emptying the bag of ping pong balls on top of that while eighteen-year-old-Tony shoos everyone away and tells them to cover their ears. 

Even Tony does it since he knows exactly what’s going to happen. Within seconds, the pail explodes and the ping pong balls go flying _everywhere,_ causing everyone in the room and cheer and clap and even whistle with excitement. 

“Congratulations,” Loki comments. “You’re excellent at making things blow up.”

“Anything worth doing is worth doing right,” Tony replies.

“What’s going on in here?” says someone from in the doorway, startling everyone in the room. Well, everyone except Loki.

 _Shit_ , Tony remembers saying when Professor Yinsen announced his presence from the doorway. He watches eighteen-year-old-him stretch his lips in a caught-red-handed sort of way and Rhodey mumbles an uh-oh. 

He’d only been working for Yinsen for about a few months and it’d been going pretty well. The fear that he was about to get canned fills Tony now even if he knows how this ends up. Howard still questioned why Tony wanted to work for the science department of MIT when he had a job waiting for him already, but it was better than the partying. Having given up on his childish dream to want to invent things, he’d graduated high school three years ago and was set to graduate with a degree in business economics next year and had recently developed a desire to hit the bottle instead of the books. 

“Tony? Are you authorized to be in here now?”

“Well, authorized is such a loose term,” he answers. “Can one really place a limit on how often someone utilizes the chance to use their brain?”

“Tony,” Yinsen says with a curl of his finger. “Come here.”

Getting a sympathetic look from Rhodey, eighteen-year-old-Tony walks out into the hall with Yinsen who just taps his foot as he waits for an explanation.

“They’re from the local high school,” eighteen-year-old-Tony admits. “Their science clubs got cut from the budget. I just thought it’d be nice to give them some place to… science.”

That’s right, Tony had stumbled across them in the parking lot trying to burn magnesium in dry ice, but they weren’t doing it right. So he went over to show them how to do it properly. When he found out that they were there because their club’s funding was cut, he figured it’d be fun to take them to the labs and show off a bit. 

Turned out to be a lot more fun than he could have ever anticipated and it became a weekly thing. The Science Crew, they called themselves, and once a week Tony and about fifteen teenage boys and girls would gather around and they would, well, blow shit up. Once Rhodey found out what Tony was doing, he appointed himself as Tony’s right hand man. Although Tony never said it out loud, he kinda already was. 

Tony can remember standing out there with Yinsen as he quickly came up with ways he could sneak them all back in once they were banned. But…

Yinsen smiles at eighteen-year-old-him and pats his shoulder. “I just got a new case of potassium iodide,” he says. “And there’s always plenty of hydrogen peroxide.”

Eighteen-year-old-Tony pulls a mischievous smirk out as Yinsen’s suggestion clicks. 

“Elephant’s toothpaste?” he asks. 

“Get to it, Tony.”

He turns and calls Rhodey to help him get the supplies they need for this one. Once again, though, Tony’s not sure why Loki’s brought him here. So he helped a bunch of kids once with some science experiments. What’s the big deal?

Tony’s about to ask as much when Yinsen steps into the room, but hangs back a bit. He just watches as the kids gather around Tony and Rhodey again to watch them pour the two chemicals together.

“Don’t waste your life, Tony,” he murmurs before going over to join the rest of them. 

“You did a _great_ job there,” Loki states as Tony rubs a hand over his face. “Let’s face it, take away your great iron name and what are you?”

“How about genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist?”

“I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says. “Face it, Tony, you’ve spent the last twenty years pushing anyone away that could possibly care about you. Garden slugs have closer relationships than you do.”

Tony scoffs a laugh. “Name one.”

“I’ll do better than that.” 

Once again, Loki taps Tony’s chest with his staff and everything whirls around him in a dizzying circle. 

“There’s gotta be a better way to do this,” Tony mumbles when they get wherever Loki’s brought him this time.

“Why?” Loki asks. “Aren’t you having fun?”

To that, Tony doesn’t reply beyond a roll of his eyes. When he sees where they are this time, his stomach tightens. 

It’s a small apartment, and it’s all decked out for the holidays. There’re decorations all over the walls and some of the lightbulbs in the ceiling have been changed to red and green. There’s fake snow lining the shelves and mantles, and a machine is set up in the corner to project images of snowflakes falling from the ceiling. The smell of sweets baking -- cakes and cookies and brownies -- fills the entire place. In the corner of the room is a tree done up to the nines. Lights and garland and tinsel and ornaments everywhere. 

When the door opens, Tony’s hit with the realization of exactly when this is. Twenty-five-year-old-him walks in, his hat and coat dusted in snow. This was his and Pepper’s first Christmas living together. 

“Hey!” twenty-five-year-old-him calls out. “Anyone home?”

Yes.

“In here!” Pepper yells from the kitchen. “How’s it look?”

Both Tony and twenty-five-year-old-him take a quick look around. On the tree, there are ornaments that hold pictures of him and Pepper together.

“Like Christmas,” he replies. “But with more… me.”

Pepper appears in the living room and Tony has to hold in a gasp. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail and she’s in just jeans and a long, white tee. She’s holding two glasses of wine. There’s flour in her hair and frosting on her face, and Tony doesn’t remember ever seeing anything so beautiful. Especially when she clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes.

“It _is_ Christmas, Tony,” she says as she takes a sip of her glass and brings one to twenty-five-year-old-him.

“Ah well, that’s true.” He takes the glass and takes a drink. “Which leads me to a question.” Pepper smiles at him. “How does it feel to be a genius?”

She scoffs. “Oh, please. I think that’s a bit much. Besides, all of this?” Pepper gestures to the indoor North Pole they’re in. “Is because you rigged up the circuit breaker to run on half the power.”

“Come on, Pepper,” he says. “This is your baby. Give yourself… twelve percent of the credit.”

Tony laughs when Pepper’s face darkens. That’s a look he used to get quite often and yet Pepper always ended up smiling.

“Twelve percent?” Pepper asks.

“An argument can be made for fifteen.” Twenty-five-year-old-Tony smirks. “I did all the heavy lifting. I did carry the tree in. But… now that I think about it… maybe that corner would be better. By the window and everything.”

Another laugh hits Tony when Pepper gives chase to twenty-five-year-old him. That had been Pepper’s suggestion in the first place and he had convinced her otherwise. The two of them end up on the couch laughing and just before they’d kiss, everything fades away and Pepper is left sitting on the couch alone.

“What… what just happened?” Tony asks as he looks around the room. 

Instead of there being all the beautiful decorations and a tree and sounds of laughter, there’s a few holiday things hung up on the wall and a ringing phone.

“You wanted a better way to do this,” Loki reminds him. “Let’s try it this way.”

Pepper, who’d been reading a book, sets it down and leans over the couch to answer the phone. 

“Hello?” She smiles. “Hey, Tony. Are you almost done?”

“No,” Tony says and shakes his head as he backs away. “No, I’m not watching this. I’m not even here.”

“Oh but you _are_ here, Tony,” Loki tells him. “You’re presence is everywhere. Just like you always wanted. Just look.”

Tony doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want anything to do with this memory. This side of it especially. Because he knows that thirty-year-old-him just told Pepper that he needed to work a few more hours. He also knows that this is one of the last conversations they had until today. 

“But, Tony, it’s Christmas Eve,” Pepper replies. “We’re supposed to be at Rhodey’s in an hour.”

He wants to close his eyes, but Tony can’t bring himself to do it. As thirty-year-old-him goes on to say that Pepper needs to start taking his needs and the needs of Stark TV into consideration, Pepper looks heartbroken. Tony knows why. It’s not just what he had said to her. If it was that, Pepper would have told him off. No, it’s the effort and consideration she _had_ been showing him for the past year. 

Pepper had been his biggest support after Howard died and he took over the company. And now he was throwing all that in her face. 

“Look, Tony,” she murmurs. “I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe…” Pepper clears her throat and Tony sees now that it’s to keep her tears back. “Maybe we should take some time apart. Just for a little while.”

“No,” Tony mumbles. “Don’t do this.” He marches over to the back of the couch. “Fight for her, you moron!”

But that’s not what happened and he knows it. No, thirty-year-old-him simply said he’d see what he could do to make it to Rhodey’s some time that night. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He hasn’t since then either. 

“Tony?” Pepper whispers. “Merry Christmas.”

Tony watches Pepper hang up the phone and just sit there for a second. After a short moment, she brings her hands to her face and her breath hitches. 

“I don’t want to watch this,” Tony sighs as Pepper cries into her hands. “Please, get me out of here.”

Loki is suddenly by his side. “Why? Are you really arrogant enough to believe that just because you weren’t present you shouldn’t know what you caused?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“No, you had no _care_ for what happened,” Loki says. “You hung up that phone and never gave her a second thought.”

“No!” Tony yells. Even though Loki’s not wrong. Tony did hang up the phone and not give a single thought to what he’d just done. Not until much later. When, just a few weeks later, he came home and all of Pepper’s things were gone. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh don’t I?” he sniggers. “I just watched the same memories with you. Tell me, Tony, what is it that I’m missing?”

“Everything! You’re missing everything!” Tony’s not really sure what it is that he has to defend himself with, so he just starts saying whatever comes to mind. “You missed the part where I doubled our viewer numbers the first year I took over! I introduced the first pre-school line-up for a primetime network! And had record breaking Fourth of July numbers--”

“Yes, yes,” Loki nods and narrows his eyes at him. “Would that be the same Fourth of July weekend you forced your assistant to work last minute even though you already approved for him to have the weekend off?” 

Tony doesn’t want to answer that. It doesn’t seem to matter though. Loki already knows the answer to that is yes. Yes, he forced Steve to work after dumping the news on him as he was leaving the office the night before he was set to have the weekend off. 

“Did you know that he was taking off because it was his birthday and his friends rented a place upstate for him and his husband?” Tony feels his mouth go dry. “Did you know that his husband was deployed overseas the Monday after that weekend?”

Stomach turning, Tony feels the sudden urge to be sick. That… he didn’t know that. He… he didn’t even know Steve’s husband was in the military. Then is that… is that why…?

“So what!” Tony exclaims. “Steve didn’t have to work! He’s a big boy! He can make his own choices!” He knows he’s full of shit, but he just can’t seem to stop. “I didn’t force him! He could’ve said no! He--”

“ _Needs_ his job,” Loki points out. “And you know it. And you exploit it. Because that’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Tony acts before thinking and suddenly his fist is flying towards Loki’s face. Instead of making contact, his fist goes right through him and Tony stumbles forward. He spins around as Loki lets loose a maniacal laugh and finds him multiplying and surrounding him. 

“Leave me alone!” Tony shouts as he holds his hands out to keep all these Loki’s back. “Just leave me alone!”

He’s not sure how it happens. One second, Tony is screaming for all the laughing Lokis to go away and the next he’s standing alone on a street corner. Cold winds wrap around him as he turns around looking for Loki and not seeing him anywhere. 

“Oh sure!” Tony yells. “ _Now_ you leave! Aren’t you so tough! Using all your supernatural ghostly powers to try and intimidate me! Well it’s not gonna work, pal!” He’s not sure where or when he is this time, but he’s just standing there in front of some crappy looking building where a whole bunch of homeless looking folk mingle around. “Right, sure!” Tony keeps yelling. “What’s this supposed to be? Some sort of test? Not today, buddy!”

“Lord, look at this one,” someone says as she comes over to Tony and tosses a blanket of his shoulders. “You poor thing. Come on inside.”

Okay? Does this mean he’s back? Tony isn’t sure so he just goes into the building with the woman. Inside, there are long benches and tables and a dilapidated looking tree. People huddle together, some in prayer, some just there. 

The woman leads him to a seat at one of the tables where there’s platters of unappetizing looking food on paper plates and plastic pitchers of what he thinks is fruit punch. There’s boxes of coffee and styrofoam cups. That’s what the woman hands him. 

“There you go, sweetheart,” she says. “Let this warm you up.”

“Where am I?” Tony asks as he automatically takes the cup from her. “What is this place?”

“You’re at Operation Outreach,” she tells him. “You--”

“Tony?”

Oh sweet mercy, finally something that makes sense. Tony swirls around at the sound Pepper’s voice and shoots out of the seat when he sees her.

“Pepper!” He hurries over to her and without thinking kisses her in greeting. “Thank god.”

“Tony,” she replies and makes no mention of the kiss. “What’re you doing here?”

That, Tony’s not sure of. He didn’t mean to end up here. In fact, he’s not the one who even took him here. Loki, the Ghost of Christmas Past, brought him here. As crazy as that sounds. Or is. Or something. 

“Uh, well, you said if it happens again I could…” He rattles his head. “Look, Pepper, I’ve been having a weird few days. And it’s… it’s got me thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah, about… about the past and… choices. Choices that we make and then maybe wonder if it was the right one…”

“Tony, it sounds like you’re talking about regret.”

“No not…” Well actually that’s exactly what it is. “Sure. Sure we can call it that.”

Pepper smiles and steps a little closer to him. “You know, the best thing about regret is that it’s never too late to change yourself. You can still make things better.”

Tony reaches out and pulls her into his arms. After seeing what he saw, he’s just so glad that she’d willing to be anywhere near him. 

“Come with me, Pepper,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll go somewhere and…”

“Pepper!” For the love of… it’s the woman who brought him inside. “Pepper, the store hasn’t delivered any of the food for tonight’s meal.”

“Oh no,” Pepper sighs. “Tony, just give me a minute and I”ll--”

“No no,” Tony interrupts. “She can do it.” He looks at the woman. “What’s the matter don’t you know how to use a phone? The food is at the store! Look up the number!”

“Tony, I just need to make this call first and then we can--”

“Pepper, give me a break. She’s a big girl, she can handle this, can’t she?”

Instead of replying to Tony, Pepper tells the woman she’ll be right there and the woman then stalks off with an added glare at Tony.

“Is everyone here this incompetent?” Tony asks when they’re alone again. “Pepper, you should fire that woman.”

“Fire her? Tony, she’s a volunteer. She’s giving her time today to be here.”

“She’s like that every other day of the year, I guarantee it.”

“Look, Tony, I’ll go with you. Just give me a minute and I’ll--”

“No, you know what?” Tony pulls away from her. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry, but he is. “Look at you, Pepper! You could’ve had so much and instead you’re here, surrounded by trash.” She was always so smart and so brilliant and could’ve done anything and this is what she chose? To leave him and be here? “Let me give you some advice. Scrape ‘em off, Pepper. You wanna save someone? Save yourself.”

He’s walking away, ready to leave and get back to his life. Where things make sense and he doesn’t feel this way.

“That’s a very nice attitude to have on Christmas,” Pepper calls after him.

That makes him halt and turn back around. She’s right and he knows it. But still, he shrugs and says, “Ba humbug.”

**The Ghost of Christmas Present**

For the past several hours, Tony has been doing everything he can not to think about this nutty day. He’s had a few drinks and gone over paperwork and made phone calls. The last thing he wants to do is have to sit down and run over in detail everything that Loki showed to him. Whether the whole thing was real or just a very vivid dream brought on by rum and stress. 

Out on the set, the final dress rehearsal is underway. The cast is done up completely in their costumes and make-up and the crew is making sure that everything is where it’s meant to be. Lights are tested and cameras calibrated. Steve is running around doing who-knows-what, and his husband is still standing off to the side watching everything. Nick is there double checking the content and to make sure nothing’s getting past the radar. 

There’s just two hours until showtime. Two hours before one of the biggest nights of Tony’s life. A dinner break has just been called and everyone starts to scatter for a rest before the night really begins. There’s just one problem.

Tony’s not the one who called for dinner.

So he slowly approaches the one who has.

“Anthony!” Justin holds his arms out like he’s going to hug him and if he does, Tony might have to punch him. It’s been too weird of a day. “There you are! Y’know we were real worried about you!”

“Listen, Justin,” Tony answers. Ignores that little bit of false concern. “I’m the one who calls the meal breaks around here.”

No way is he gonna let this little kiss ass think he gets to run the show around here. Cause he doesn’t. No way. All afternoon long, every time Tony turns around, Justin is doing something that he was about to do or interfering in one way or another. This, however, is the last straw. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Anthony!” Justin says. “Here, I’ll call everyone back and you can tell them it’s time for dinner.” He does just that. Uses the megaphone he has to call everyone back. “Hey, everyone! Anthony has something he’d like to say!” 

Turning the megaphone so that the mouthpiece is towards Tony, Justin nods for him to go on. 

“I think you and I need to have a talk,” Tony says softly. 

“Hey, can it wait?” he asks and is already walking away. “I gotta go and meet with Nick for supper, but we’ll meet up later! No problem!”

Without giving Tony a chance to answer that, Justin disappears along with the rest of the cast and crew. Tony is left all alone, standing on the deserted set. Technically, he has those thoughts he’s been trying to avoid. Howard and Maria are there, along with Jarvis -- who Tony’s actually gone through great lengths attempting to replicate his personality into his AI system. There’s that thing with Yinsen that he’d rather not know about at all, though he can’t help wondering if he’d think Tony’s wasted his life or not. Tony’s nervous about that answer. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the image of Pepper crying out of his head and it’s even worse knowing that he’s probably screwed it up for the last and final time. And Tony definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t want to think about that thing that went on with Steve’s husband and the thought that maybe the reason Steve was so over-the-top protective was because Tony may have almost triggered a panic attack in a disabled vet.

Still just standing there in front of the Scrooge and Marley’s business set, Tony glances around at the emptiness he’s found himself in when the lights begin to go out.

“Hey!” he shouts. “I’m still down here!” Another light goes out. “Hey! Hello!” 

One more light goes out and Tony is left standing with just a dull illumination around him. He’s about ready to go find the son-of-a-bitch responsible for this when he hears someone behind him. Someone singing. Not in English either, but some Scandinavian language. 

“Oh, no,” Tony mumbles as he slowly turns around to see a large, blonde man seated at a huge buffet. “Great.”

The table is filled with so many different foods, Tony doesn’t know where to look. There’s meats -- goose and pig and turkey -- and bowls of fruit. There’re bowls of gravy and potatoes, platters of vegetables and trays of cakes and cookies and pies.

The man at the feast, picking at this and that, is tall enough that Tony can tell he’s much bigger than him even when he’s sitting down. His girth and the size of his arms alone is enough to brag about. He’s got long, blonde hair cascading just down to his shoulders and he’s chugging something out of an ornate chalice. When he’s finished with the drink he pulls it away with much more enthusiasm than Tony expected and smacks his lips together. 

“This is delicious!” he announces right as he flings the chalice down to the ground. “Another!”

There’s no one there to offer him another drink, so the man just pours it himself from the pitcher right in front of him. He goes to take another sip from it when he notices Tony staring at him. A huge, wide smile pulls across his lips.

“Tony, son of Stark!” he calls out. “Come! Join me in the glorious feast!”

“No thanks,” Tony replies. “I’m more of a fan of food I know is real.”

The man tosses his head back and releases a hearty laugh as though Tony’s just said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He even slams a hand on the table. 

“Always with the quick wit.” He uses that hand to push away from the table. “Very well, we’ll get things underway. I am Thor, the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

“I had a feeling.”

When Thor moves away from the table, Tony catches a glimpse of two people standing behind him. A boy with white hair and a girl brown hair. They’re young. Even saying they’re in their early twenties might be pushing it. They say nothing, they do nothing. They just stand there and watch as Thor approaches Tony. Tony takes his attention off the two of them when Thor’s right in front of him. Tony has to tilt his head up just to see his face. 

“Have I been keeping you waiting?” Thor asks.

“Actually, you’re right on time,” Tony grumbles. “I was just ready to be taken away on some mystical adventure of the happenings of today.”

“Oh good,” Thor replies. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Thor holds his open hand out to the side. He’s still looking down at Tony with that huge grin on his face, but something out of the corner of Tony’s eye catches his attention and he tears his gaze away to see what it is. And what it is, is a hammer, and it’s flying right at them. 

About to duck for cover, Tony takes a hurried step backwards just as Thor catches the hammer with the greatest of ease. Tony’s about to say something about it, but never gets the chance. Not when Thor raises the hammer and slams it down right on Tony.

A scream catches in Tony’s throat and he’s sure that Thor doesn’t miss. The hammer definitely makes contact but Tony doesn’t feel it. Not really anyway. He just knows that he’s been hit and the next thing he knows he’s standing out on a cold fire escape. The window he’s in front of has lights around it and a Menorah on the window sill. Next to him, is Thor. And he takes up so much room that Tony feels like he’s being squished.

“Hey, ease up there, pal,” Tony says and puts his hand on Thor’s thick bicep in an attempt to push him back. Even though he’s pretty sure no matter how hard he pushed, he’d never actually get him to move. “Where the hell are we?”

He glances around and doesn’t recognize the buildings. Tony does, however, spot the same boy and girl watching him down on the fire escape below. 

“We are at the home of someone you spend most of your time with. And I’m certain you wouldn’t recognize any of what goes on here.” Thor lifts the window open and gestures for Tony to go on in. “After you.”

“Don’t think you can fit through, Gigantor,” Tony grumbles as he maneuvers around the Menorah and other items on the windowsill he’s climbing over. 

Once he’s inside, Thor is suddenly at his side again and, as Tony figured, he didn’t climb through the window. He’s just… there. Standing with Tony in this shabby little apartment. Despite it’s small size, there are lots of people crammed in there. Looks like they’ve just arrived at dinner time even though they’re piled into the living room. They’ve all got paper plates and paper cups. Even the three little kids eating on the floor. A woman with soft brown hair, who Tony assumes is the mother of some of them at least, has a little one on her lap and is telling one of the little girls to use a napkin and not her sleeve. 

Next to her is a man who hands the little girl that napkin and on her other side is a pretty redhead. Standing to the side of the couch is a group of four women, all holding the same paper plates and laughing so loud that the man on the couch shushes them so he can hear the question being asked on the television game show that’s on. Even though he doesn’t get that answer, or the rest of them, right.

Tony doesn’t see anyone he recognizes, and for someplace he’s at that supposedly belongs to someone he spends most of his time with, he’s pretty confused. Until he sees one recognizable face and feels his stomach drop. Because sitting in front of a snack tray all by himself a little bit off to the side, is Steve’s husband. There’s a plate in front of him with just a few scraps left and next to it is a notepad. Every few seconds, he puts a pen down to it and scribbles something on the page. 

“Why are we here?” Tony asks upon noticing him. “What does this have to--”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish. Because the redhead sitting on the couch gets up and walks over to Steve’s husband. Tony doesn’t know why her approach makes him shut up, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to keep talking. 

When she reaches him, the redhead first touches him on the shoulder, gently placing her fingers down and getting his attention. He looks a little started at first but when he sees who’s touched him all the tension melts out of him. 

“Hey, James,” she says softly. “You want anything else to eat?”

He looks back at his empty plate and then appears frustrated when he goes to answer. As if simply saying yes or no is some sort of struggle. So much so that he closes his eyes and sighs before shaking his head. 

“Okay, no problem,” she says and then goes to pick up his plate. “I’ll just…”

She stops he when he drops his pen and takes hold of her wrist. His lips are set in a line and he rolls his eyes. Letting go of her wrist, he stands and takes the plate from her.

“Well _excuse_ me,” she chuckles. “See if I ever do anything for you again.”

There’s amusement in his eyes, but if he doesn’t laugh. As the two of them go off to the kitchen with their empty dishes, the man on the couch calls out to them. 

“Hey, Bucky! Grab me a beer, would ya?”

James or Binky or Bucky or whatever his name is stops and, so does everyone else when he twists his one hand just enough that no crumbs spill and flips the guy off. That seems to get everyone cracking up. 

“Oh!” the guy shouts. “Breaking my heart over here!”

“Clint,” sighs the woman on the couch with him. “Get your own beer.”

As they all go on laughing and poking fun at that Clint fellow, Tony sneaks over to see what Steve’s husband was doing and is surprised at what he sees. On the notepad is actually all the answers to the quiz show that’s on. And all the answers are right, too.

“He’s a smart guy,” Tony remarks. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He has not spoken in almost two years,” Thor tells him. “He was injured overseas.”

“Is that…” Tony’s stomach hurts. “Is that how he lost his arm?”

“Indeed,” he agrees. “When he returned home, he just… drifted away after some time and hasn’t found his way back yet.”

That’s something Tony vaguely remembers reading about once. Things like trauma and PTSD and mutism. And just a few hours ago he grabbed and threatened the poor guy. Tony’s done really shitty things in his life, but that… that’s just… 

“I… I mean, I didn’t know Steve’s husband was in the military,” he mutters. “How was I supposed to know he was hurt? Networking, people!” Tony shouts out. “That’s what it’s for!”

“Tony, don’t you remember the cuff that you made Steve take off?”

Come to think of it, Tony does remember that. It was metal and tied around Steve’s wrist. It said _Half my heart is deployed_ on one side and _One day closer…_ on the other. 

“I remember the bracelet thing,” he says. “I just thought it was a political fashion statement.” Thor lifts his eyebrows but doesn’t respond to that. “Where is Steve anyway?”

Rather than answering verbally, Thor points down the hall, where Bucky’s now going through. Tony doesn’t really think about following. He just does. There’s not all that much space to cross. This place is even smaller than it appears to the eye. They end up right outside a small bedroom. Bucky is standing in the doorway and just watching. He’s tall enough that Tony needs to stretch a bit to see what he’s looking at. 

In there is Steve, and he’s sitting on the bed surrounded by papers. His back is to the door so Bucky remains unseen as Steve continues doing whatever it is he’s doing. Bucky sighs a little and then walks into the bedroom, giving Tony the full view of what’s going on. 

Now that he can see clearly, Tony can tell that Steve looks a bit frazzled as he goes from paper to paper and chews on the top of his pen. When Bucky goes over, he doesn’t even notice him until he pokes a finger into Steve’s side. That makes Steve damn near leap off the bed. 

“Bucky!” he laughs. “I didn’t hear you come in. I’ll be out in a few more minutes.”

Bucky doesn’t seem to accept that answer and when Steve goes to get back to work, he pokes Steve’s side again. Only this time he wiggles his fingers into his ribs which makes Steve squeal and almost slip off the edge of the bed. 

“Oh no, Bucky!” he laughs as he tries to twist away from Bucky’s fingers, but not mess up all the papers. 

After Steve pleads a few more times, Bucky takes his hand away and then puts it against his hip. 

“I know, I know,” Steve grunts. “But maybe if I get some of this done, I’ll be able to get home early tomorrow.”

Oh. Oh, that’s what Steve’s… oh.

The look Bucky gives Steve is enough to see that he thinks, or knows, that that’s not happening. And he’s not wrong. No matter how much he busts his ass in here to get more work done than necessary, Tony wouldn’t have let him go home early tomorrow. Even though Steve’s giving up time he could be spending with his family. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighs. “You’re right. I just--”

Bucky interrupts by tickling Steve again. Catches him so off guard that this time he does slip off the edge of the bed. Steve ends up toppling over on the floor and squealing as he tries to crawl away without actually fighting Bucky off. 

Tony, for the life of him, can’t understand why he’s smiling, but he is. He’s smiling as he watches these two husbands goof around in their tiny bedroom. 

“ _What_ is going on in here?” asks one of the brunettes who’s come from the living room. 

“Peggy!” Steve exclaims. “Help!”

Instead of helping Steve, this Peggy calls for everyone else and the next thing Tony knows, everyone from in the living room is running into the bedroom with them. All the kids pile on top of Steve and start helping Bucky tickle him. 

“What a wondrous sight,” Thor says. “Just look at how happy they are.”

“Is that what you wanted to show me?” Tony scoffs. “A happy little family?”

“Not exactly,” Thor answers and points Tony’s attention back to what’s happening inside the room. 

The tickling has stopped and Steve is now sitting up again. Right next to him is Bucky and instead of the playful man that was just there, he’s tense and looks nervous. He even jerks back a bit when Steve reaches out for him. Steve quickly pulls his hand away and shows Bucky his palms. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re safe, Bucky. No one’s going to hurt you.”

The kids have all piled up onto the bed and keep very still and quiet, like this is something they’ve practiced before. Everyone else speaks softly and one at a time, each of them giving their own words of comfort and Bucky begins to come back to himself again. When he does, tears fill his eyes and he looks like he wants to apologize. 

“You’re fine, baby,” Steve assures him. “Everything is okay. I haven’t…” His breath catches. “I haven’t seen you play like that in a long time. I’m so… so proud of you.”

Those tears in Bucky’s eyes dry up and he nods a little before placing his brow against Steve’s shoulder. Steve puts an arm around him and kisses the top of his head while he reminds him of what they’re doing tonight. That they’re going to watch the movie filming.

“I don’t understand,” Tony states. “What just happened? Why…” He rattles his head. “He was…” Not fine. Fine isn’t the world. But he was probably the most easy-going Tony’s ever seen him. Which isn’t saying much considering this is only the second time he’s ever laid eyes on the guy. “Is he gonna be alright?”

“Only time will tell,” Thor answers. “But if things don’t improve, I see an empty spot where he once was.”

Cold runs through Tony’s entire body, icing his veins and making him shiver. He feels sick to his stomach. That’s not fair. None of it is. He can’t imagine what will happen to poor Steve is his husband dies. Most of all, his husband doesn’t deserve that. He deserves to grow old with all these people who love him. To live a happy life, filled with the warmth and love that fills this tiny place. 

“Why doesn’t Steve get him help?” Tony demands. “Take him to doctors? Specialists?”

“He does, of course,” he says. “As much as he can afford.” 

“So this is my fault too?” Tony exclaims. “I don’t control what doctors charge!” It’s a strawman argument and he knows that, but Tony’s not going to take the blame for this. No way. “I pay him what I’m required to pay!”

“That is accurate, but because Steven qualified for disability assistance, you’re able to pay him a lesser amount.”

“Steve?” Tony’s stomach flips some more. “Why does Steve qualify for disability assistance?”

“As a veteran himself, he, too, returned from battle and has required some help in keeping the memories at bay.” 

Sounds like PTSD as well. Tony had no idea. In fact, he didn’t even know Steve was also a Vet. 

“I didn’t know Steve was in the military, too,” he says and suddenly feels horrible for making him work these past Memorial Days. “Seriously, why doesn’t anyone tell me these things?”

Thor turns a judgement eye on him and Tony’s pretty sure he’s about to toss him under the bus again.

“You hired him from the Vet Assistance Program.”

Well damn.

“Well… I’ll have to check my records. Maybe… I can see about getting a Steve a raise.”

Thor looks down on him, his eyes holding a flare of anger. “Why? If his husband dies, it will simply decrease the surplus populations, will it not? Is that not what you want?”

Tony’s sure all the color drains from his face. That’s what he said to Steve earlier today when Steve mentioned how many people die in poverty. But… but Tony didn’t really mean it. Maybe… maybe some awful, evil part inside of him that Tony now wishes never existed did, but he doesn’t. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Tony whispers. “I can… I can try getting Steve something. A raise. A bonus. Something.”

“How kind of you.”

“Alright, you know what?” Tony announces. “I don’t need moral lessons from some ghostly do gooder. I’ve taken my father’s company and turned in into an empire. Sure, maybe I’ve made a few mistakes along the way, but I know what I’m doing. I know--”

Thor must not care about whatever it is Tony has to say. When Tony glances at him, he raises his hammer and slams it down on Tony again. This time Tony feels like he’s been knocked over and he could swear that stars light up in front of his eyes, even though he doesn’t actually feel any pain from the impact. 

By the time Tony gains his balance again, he needs to rattle his head and blink a few times to clear his vision of the blurry haze in front of it. Once he does, he glares at Thor.

“I think I’d prefer it if you were the Ghost of Christmas Presents,” he mutters. “Be a lot nicer if you gave me things instead of smashing me with a hammer.”

“I am giving you something, Tony,” Thor responds. “The fault lies with you if you do not embrace it.”

“Okay, Mister Fortune Cookie,” Tony scoffs. “Where the hell’d you bring me this time?”

He takes a quick look around and can put together that he’s in a house. A pretty nice one at that since he and Thor are standing on nice -- not to mention real -- hardwood floors in an entryway that opens to a living room with high, cathedral ceilings. There are lights in all the windows and from what Tony can tell, all around the outside of the house. He takes a peek out the closest window, but instead of catching a glimpse of all the decorations, he sees that boy and girl again. They’re standing right at the edge of the lawn like they’re waiting for Tony. 

Not liking the way they watch him, Tony backs away from the window and looks back at the warm and inviting home he’s found himself in. From around the corner, Tony can hear people laughing and chatting away like they don’t have a care in the world. 

Curiosity getting the best of him, Tony doesn’t wait for Thor to lead the way and instead takes it upon himself to see what the laughter is all about. He feels a little lightheaded when he realizes where he is. On the couches in the living room are Rhodey and some of Tony’s oldest friends. Tony hadn’t even realized he’d been taken to his best friend’s home. 

“Shit,” Tony sighs. “They look like they’re in a beer commercial.”

There’s a huge tree in the corner of the room, all dressed in the most colorful trimmings and tons of opened and unopened gifts under it. A fire roars in the fireplace that has stockings hanging from it. Everyone is all gathered around the coffee table and pouring wine and eating snacks while playing Trivial Pursuit. The movie edition, too. Rhodey’s just asked Maria a question which she must have gotten right on a sheer guess since they’re now all hooting and hollering how lucky she just got. 

“Unbelieveable!” Rhodey shouts, and looks at his card like he’s inspecting it. “You sure you can’t see the answers? Sam, make sure she can’t see the answers.”

“I dunno, man,” Sam laughs. “I’m sittin’ right next to her and I sure as hell can’t see ‘em.”

“Okay, okay!” Maria calls over everyone. “My turn.” She quickly selects a card and holds it close to her. “Which film equalled Ben Hur’s eleven Oscars in the 1998 Academy Awards?”

Tapping Tony’s shoulder, Thor murmurs the question back to him as though Tony hadn’t heard it already.

“I may be invisible,” Tony replies. “But I can still hear, y’know.”

Thor holds his palms out as Tony goes back to watching Rhodey trying to come up with the right answer.

“Oh! Oh, um…” Rhodey trails off as he tries to think.

“Come on, Rhodey!” Tony shouts. “You gotta know this!”

Rhodey starts snapping his fingers and excitedly points across the table at Maria. “I got it! Good Will Hunting!”

“ _What_?” Tony exclaims.

Both Maria and Sam make a mechanical “wrong answer” sound and start laughing.

“I’m afraid the right answer is Titanic,” Sam says.

“Titanic!” Tony laughs as Rhodey defends his answer by claiming he thought Titanic came out the year before. “How could you not know that!” Thor glances over at him with a tiny smirk. “Oh come on!” Tony answers that look. “Everyone knows that!”

Still smirking, Thor chuckles lightly and, like Tony, goes back to watching the little party going on without him. A party he’s always invited to. Everyone looks so happy and full of life, and Tony recognizes a pang of jealousy that touches him. 

“Hey, Rhodey,” Carol, his wife, says after pulling something out from under the tree. “You forgot to open your gift from Tony.”

Tony’s eyes go wide as he sees the size of the box she carries over. “That does _not_ look like a towel.”

“Ha!” Maria barks a laugh. “This should be good.”

Sam asks, “What’d he get you last year?”

“I, uh…” Rhodey shakes his head as he holds the wrapped box closer to him. “I don’t remember.”

“I remember,” Carol says. 

“A shower curtain!” Tony shouts at the same time Carol mumbles it. 

“It was a nice shower curtain,” Rhodey chuckles. “Had all these fancy rings…”

“Yeah!” Tony continues shouting. “It was a nice shower curtain!”

“Hey, what’d you get him this year?” Maria asks. 

Eyes brightening, Tony smiles and focuses more closely on listening to this, but Thor mutters an _uh-oh_ and dashes in front of him. Before he’s even there, his huge hands are covering Tony’s ears and no matter how hard Tony struggles, he can’t wiggle free. Not until Thor pulls his hands away and all that’s left of Rhodey’s answer is the rest of them awing at it. 

“I know something you don’t know,” Thor teases as he steps to the side again.

“Shut up,” Tony scoffs as Rhodey starts tearing into the wrapping paper on the box that’s most definitely not what Tony sent him.

“Whoa!” Rhodey exclaims when he sees it. “It’s just a brand new 3D television!”

“I think he must have mixed up the gifts,” Carol chuckles. 

“ _I_ didn’t mix up the gifts!” Tony hisses. “My _ex_ -assistant mixed up the gifts!”

“I just don’t understand,” Carol goes on to say. “Every year you invite him to dinner and every year he says no. Not just for the holidays either. For anything. I mean, you wanted him here to ask him to be the godfather of your first child--” Carol runs a hand over her belly “--and he couldn’t take just an hour or so away to be here. I mean, I know you love the guy, but when are you gonna learn?”

Child? Tony glances at the glass in front of Carol and realizes that it’s filled with water. A baby. They’re going to have a baby. A huge smile pulls up on Tony’s mouth. Rhodey’s gonna be a dad.

“Well, never,” Rhodey answers Carol’s question. “I mean, he’s my best friend.” A lump forms in Tony’s throat. “Look, I know you guys can’t see it anymore, but… he’s still Tony. He’s still that great guy we always knew.”

“Yeah, but…” Sam sighs. “Whoever he used to be? He’s not now.”

“No, he is. I swear it.” Rhodey grabs his glass from off the coffee table and holds it up in a toast. “To Tony, one of the best friends that I’ve ever had. May he feel all the love in the world.”

They all lift their glasses along with him and Carol leans in to kiss his cheek. “You’re too good.”

Passing a hand over his face, Tony sighs. He’s been blowing Rhodey off for years because he reminds him of all the things he used to be and tries to pretend not to care about anymore. Now, Rhodey and Carol are having a baby and if he wasn’t here for this glimpse of tonight, he may have never known. Maybe Carol will convince Rhodey to write him off for good. Tony would deserve it, too. He knows that. 

“You were always goofy,” Tony mumbles. “Keep the TV. It’s only money.” From next to him, Thor turns to look at him with a pair of thoughtful eyes. “What?”

Thor just holds his hands out and the party starts to pick up again as Sam selects a card and reads off the question. 

“Okay, In the first Harry Potter movie, which platform did Harry go to to get on the Hogwarts Express?”

Excitement rushes through Tony.

“This is so easy!” he exclaims as both Rhodey and Carol start rattling off numbers. “Come on, you two!” He’s laughing. Starting to laugh so hard his sides actually hurt a little. “You can get this! You have to know this!”

There’s a big hand on Tony’s shoulder and he first glances at it before staring up at Thor.

“It’s time to go, Tony,” he says softly.

“What? No, no! I know this one!”

“Everyone know this one,” Thor chuckles.

“But… please? Just a few minutes. This is fun!”

It’s so much fun and Tony’s only been here for just a few minutes. He really doesn’t want to leave though. He honestly can’t remember when he just thought of something as fun. He thought he was having it by going to shindigs and leaving with beautiful women that he can’t even recall more than half the names of. But this is what he missed. Missed so much it hurts. Just… _being_ with people. He’s been hiding from it so long that he forgot what it was like to just laugh. 

“No, Tony. We must go.”

“No!” Tony growls. “I’m having fun! Leave me alone!”

But Thor must have some set itinerary or something because he’s totally set on leaving now. That’s made all too clear when he swings his hammer right at Tony’s face. 

Once again, Tony feels like he’s been knocked over and those stars light up behind his eyelids. This time, however, he feels it. Obviously not the way he should since Thor’s mean swing would probably kill him, but he does feel _something_ , and when his senses begin to clear, he rubs his temples.

“Is there a real reason you need to _hit_ me?”

“Sometimes it take a slap in the face to get someone’s attention,” Thor answers.

“Fine,” Tony grunts. “ _Slap_ me in the face. But you keep hitting me with a hammer!”

“Ah, yes. Sometimes the truth is painful.”

Still rubbing at his temples, Tony opens his eyes wide and cracks his neck. Once he shakes it all out, he looks around to find that he’s not anywhere. Just… some place dark with snow coming down. There’s light enough to see, but there’s still nothing but emptiness around them.

“Where are we?”

“This is the last thing I must show you before I leave,” Thor says. “Before you’re visited by the last of us. The Ghost of--”

“Christmas Future, yeah, yeah.”

“Actually, The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is always preferable.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony just waits for Thor to show him whatever he wants to show him. But Thor doesn’t do anything. He just stands there. That’s when Tony notices they’re not alone. That boy and girl are here with them. Closer now than Tony’s ever seen. Now that Tony gets a good look at them, the appear almost scared and timid. 

“Okay,” Tony mumbles. “What’s with the Shining Siblings?”

Thor keeps his eyes trained on Tony, but does hold a finger out to point to the pair of them. 

“They are Man’s,” he says and turns an eye on them. “And they cling to me, appealing to mankind. The girl is ignorance. The boy is want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this girl, for on her brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.”

Tony doesn’t like the way Thor says that. In fact, he hates it. Hates the strange way it makes him feel. Frightened. A feeling he doesn’t want to admit to having. Like this boy and girl are part of him and will be his downfall.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He’s still watching the two of them as they hold each other’s hands, but before Tony can even blink, the boy disappears and then scares a gasp right out of Tony when he reappears right in front of him. Eyes hard and face cold. No longer scared and timid, he looks upon him with a sneer curled up on his lips like it bring him great joy to frighten Tony. 

“They should all be arrested,” he growls at Tony. Repeats the words Tony said about the homeless and those seeking charity for them. “Every last one of them.” 

Tony stumbles back -- and into the arms of the girl. She glares down at him with glowing red eyes and a strange red mist coming out of her fingers.

“What have the poor ever done for me?” she taunts.

Before Tony can get away, she brings that mist to his temple and Tony’s alone again. 

Alone… and not alone. All around him is this empty space except… behind him is a pile of money in front of his office. Money piled on top of more money. There are magazines with his face plastered all over them as well. Riches and fame. But at his feet are bodies. Dead bodies. Rhodey and Carol’s. Sam and Maria’s. Nick’s. Steve’s. Bucky’s. Their whole little family, too. Pepper’s. Pepper’s cold, lifeless body is right in front of him and Tony is just there. Unable to do a thing about it. 

“What the hell?!” Tony screams. “What is this supposed to be, huh? What’re you telling me? What the hell did they do? Why are they… what did they do?” Tony grinds his teeth. “What… I don’t…” A breath catches in his throat. “I don’t want to be alone…”

He backs away. Wants nothing more than to get away from wherever Ignorance and Want has sent him. A place where there’s nothing for him. Where he has everything he’s ever wanted and nothing at all. 

“How do I get out of here?” he yells. “There’s gotta be a way out of here!”

Tony keeps backing away from all the death in front of him and ends up slipping on one of the magazines behind him. He falls flat on his back and looks up at the dark ceiling. Ceiling. With lights hanging from it and there’s noise around him and… 

“Mr. Stark?”

Heart speeding up at the sound of that recognizable voice, Tony scrambles to his feet to see Steve coming towards him. At the studio. On the set of tonight’s production. Behind him is that little weasel Justin Hammer. 

“Anthony!” he cries. “Where have you been?”

Everything still feels so surreal. The bleakness of wherever he just was and the cheer and merriment he’s missing out on. Not to mention what he’s causing all these people here with him tonight to miss out on as well. Tony’s head is spinning from too many confusing thoughts. 

“Nowhere,” he answers. “It’s…” He moves away from Justin and sorta stands behind Steve as Steve brushes dust and fake snow off Tony’s clothes since he ended up smack on the set. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“It’s alright,” Steve is saying as Justin keeps trying to get closer and Tony keeps trying to keep away from him. “Mr. Stark is fine. I’ve got him.”

As if understanding what Tony’s doing -- at least knowing he doesn’t want Justin near him -- Steve starts to guide him away and holds an arm out to keep Justin back.

“Okay, that’s good!” Justin says. “Then, Anthony, why don’t you go up to your office and supervise?”

“Justin, we only have a few minutes over here,” one of the crew members tells him. 

Justin mumbles that he knows while Tony takes quick look around. They’re only a few minutes away from filming. From everything starting. Cameras are being put in final position and people are milling about making the last minute arrangements to have everything perfect. The actors are all getting into place and just about everyone is doing something.

“I just wanted to say,” Tony announces as he stumbles a bit towards the elevator even with Steve’s help. “Break a leg, everyone! I feel real weird about tonight!”

There’s a smile on his face and he really means what he says. Not just for his own ratings, but if all these people or even just a handful are missing out on fun times with loved ones, he really does hope they do well. 

“Aw, listen to that!” Justin says. “You hear that folks? Okay, this one’s for Anthony! It’s his baby!”

Now that he’s gathered more of his bearings and doesn’t need to be leaning on Steve for help, Tony straightens up and fixes his tie as Justin goes on to say how much of an honor it’s been to work for him. But he just ignores everything he’s saying, even if he does agree that he should go upstairs and just relax in his office for a little while.

“Look, Steve’ll take you upstairs where it’s safe and you can just go over numbers,” Justin’s saying as they reach the elevator. 

Just as they get there, the bell for the elevator rings and the doors open. And standing inside is a dark, cloaked figure with a skeletal face. 

“Oh shit!” Tony screams and pushes at Steve. “Steve, get out of here! He’s here for me!” He spreads his arms out before the hooded figure. “Come on! Come at me! You think I’m afraid of you, after the day I’ve had? I know what you came for, come and get me, you son of bitch.”

The figure looks at Tony and then turns to look at Justin. 

“Justin?” he questions. Voice… sounding very human and normal and confused. “What’s going on?”

Justin reaches into the elevator to grab him by the shoulder and escort him out of there.

“Stop scaring, Anthony,” he tells him as it dawns upon Tony that that man was not who he thought it was and he’s just made a damn fool of himself. 

“Ah geez,” he mutters as he smothers his face in his hands at the absurdity of all of this. 

“He’s in the show, Mr. Stark,” Steve remarks. “As the Ghost of Christmas Future.”

“Yet to Come,” Tony corrects with his hands still over his face. He’s bringing them down when he says, “Apparently that’s more preferable.” Tony sighs when Steve looks at him like he’s out of his mind. “Never mind. Is your husband still here?”

The question just bursts out of him and now Steve looks at him like he’s incredibly suspicious.

“Why?”

“No reason,” Tony answers honestly. “I was just curious. You said he liked it. The story, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods and then points over Tony’s shoulder. “He does.”

Following Steve’s finger, Tony sees that Bucky is sitting on a folding chair and watching as the little boy who plays Tiny Tim goes over some of his lines. When the boy gets to his last and most famous line, Bucky nods along with it. 

“I, uh, I hope he has fun,” Tony states as he steps into the elevator. “Go watch the show, Steve.” He smirks once though he hardly feels real. “We’re making history tonight,” he comments as the doors slowly shut.

**The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come**

The show’s been going on for a little over an hour now. It plays on all the screens in Tony’s office though he hardly notices. When he first got up to his office, he checked every nook and cranny to make sure there was no one waiting for him. No… ghosts or anything. There wasn’t. And haven’t been, but a part of him wishes these ghosts would just get the show on the road. Like a bandaid, Tony just wants to get it over with. 

But no one has come for him and Tony’s been sitting in his office attempting to do his job, but instead he’s been doodling on the desk calendar. After a little bit, he switches for an actual notebook where he continues to come up with different designs for an arm. He’s not even really paying all that much attention to what he’s doing, but after he rips a few pages out in frustration, he realizes that he’s annoyed that his designs wouldn’t work as an actual prosthetic.

Sighing over the most recent one -- with overlapping plates of metal that with the right build might actually be more functional than most available prosthetics -- Tony opens up the top drawer to grab himself a different pencil when he notices a wrapped gift in there. He takes it out and reads the label. It’s from Rhodey. He must’ve hid this here when he stopped by yesterday.

Tony pulls the paper off and sorta rips into the box instead of opening it neatly and pulls out what’s inside. It’s a picture frame with a picture of him and Rhodey from when they were in college. They both have cornball grins on their faces and Tony is holding his fingers like rabbit ears over Rhodey’s head. Written across the picture is a message from Rhodey.

 _To Tony_ it says. _the best friend a guy’s ever had_

Eyes wet and a bit swollen, Tony tucks the frame in the breast pocket of his jacket and goes to take another sip of his drink when he hears a noise behind him. He spins around, prepared for who-knows-what, only to find nothing there. 

“Hello?”

He doesn't get an answer, not that he really expected one anyway. Still, Tony pushes away from his desk just to make sure there’s no one out there. At first glance, there’s no one there. Not in Steve’s section and not out in the office area. All the desks are empty and the computers are off and none of the phones are making any noises. Actually, the silence is even creepier than thinking he heard a noise, so Tony hurries over to the elevators and pushes the down button for all of them. He’s had enough relaxation. 

Back to the elevators, Tony is careful to pay very close attention to the office to make sure that nothing pops out on him or hits his chest with a staff or his head with a hammer. When the bell to the first elevator chimes, he backs into it and quickly -- repeatedly as well -- jabs his finger into the first floor button. 

Once the doors close, Tony lets out a sigh of relief and fixes his tie a bit as he steps further into the elevator. He’s just about to relax when he notice he’s not alone in there and Tony doesn’t scream but he kinda screams seeing the hooded figure again. 

“Damn it,” he sighs. “What’re you tryin’ do to me? Shouldn’t you be on set?”

Instead of answering, the figure steps closer and Tony now has a funny feeling this guy isn’t the same guy as before. A suspicion further confirmed when the elevator starts to shudder and shake, and Tony’s the only one of the two to actually react to it. 

He grabs onto the rail when the elevator feels like it’s plummeting down even though the figure -- oh hell, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come -- does nothing. The elevator lands with a hard crash and Tony grunts and stumbles forward.

“What with you ghosts and your modes of transportation?”

Saying nothing, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come simply raises an arm and points with a thin, metal finger when the doors open. Tony’s surprised -- not that anything really should surprise him anymore -- to see a big backyard filled with kids running around and birthday decorations all over the place. The last thing he expected was to be shown some place with lots of people smiling and laughing and having fun.

Around a big picnic table is Rhodey and Carol and on Carol’s lap is a little baby girl. There’s a cake in front of them that has a candle in the shape of a number one. Everyone there starts singing happy birthday, and Tony gets it. He’s not there. To celebrate his best friend’s daughter’s first birthday.

“Hey, hey!” That’s Sam, and he’s passing a video recorder over to Maria. “Let me kiss my goddaughter!”

He deserves this. Tony knows he does and that he should be happy that Rhodey has a friend he can depend on. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I can… I can call them when this is over,” he mumbles as he steps back into the elevator. “Even if…” 

Even if Rhodey’s completely decided against making him an official part of his daughter’s life, maybe he can at least let Rhodey know that he’s sorry. That he means more to him than he ever let him know.

The doors close again and Tony silently endures the rough and, admittedly, freaky shaking until the elevator crashes again. The ghost is pointing before the doors open this time.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Tony huffs.

This time, Tony sees a long, dark hallway that leads to glass windows like some sort of viewing station. Taking in a deep breath, he doesn’t bother asking the ghost any questions and simply walks to the windows. He’s not sure what he’s looking at. Not until he realizes he’s standing over a hospital room.

There are two people in it. One sitting on the edge of the bed. The other… strapped to it. When he realizes who it is, Tony wants to be sick. 

Steve’s husband looks worn and ragged. His hair is down past his chin and all over the place. It looks like he hasn’t shaved in days and he just stares straight ahead like he doesn’t know Steve is there with him even though Steve is trying to talk to him. The door, Tony realizes like a kick to the gut, is locked from the outside. The only reason he knows is because an orderly unlocks it and with him is a doctor who tells Steve visiting hours are over.

“But… but it’s Christmas,” Steve tries to argue. “I can’t stay a little longer?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Rogers,” the doctor says. “With his suicide attempts so close together we feel it’s best if he’s not overwhelmed.”

Tony thinks he might throw up. Thor had said he saw an empty place where Bucky once was. He just never thought it could be due to his own hands. 

“Bucky?” Steve whispers. Chokes back a sob, Tony can tell. “Please, don’t leave me, baby. Come back to me.” When Bucky still doesn’t acknowledge Steve, Steve just kisses his temple. “I love you, Bucky. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” He’s getting up and following the doctor’s orders. Right before he would leave through the door, he turns to say, “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

The door closes behind Steve and locks again. For a moment, Bucky just continues to stare. Until his gaze lifts slightly and Tony could swear he was looking right at him. 

Ripping away from the window, Tony starts marching back to the elevator.

“This isn’t… none of this is set in stone, is it?” he asks and doesn’t get an answer. “This isn’t a problem,” he insists. “I know the head of psychiatrics at NYU and there’s the Mayo Clinic. I can… I can get him in there before this even happens… don’t worry, I’m all over this!”

He’s running over doctors he knows and places that could help Steve and Bucky that Tony barely even feels the trembling as the elevator drops again. 

When the doors open, Tony’s at a restaurant. Classy and exclusive and at a table by the bay windows is a group of women. They’re laughing over their lunch until one of them points out the children by the window selling candy for fundraising. 

“Ugh,” she grunts. “Would you just look at that? How disgusting.” She snaps her fingers to call a waiter over. “Is it necessary for us to have to see them while we’re trying to enjoy our lunch?”

“I’ll get rid of them right away, ma’am,” he says and hurries off to do just that. 

“Oh, Pepper,” one of the other women at the table say with a laugh, and Tony can feel the world collapse around him. “Have a heart. It’s Christmas!”

No. No, that… that can’t be Pepper. It just…

“Don’t tell me!” Pepper chuckles. “I wasted years of my life on pathetic little creatures like that. Finally, an old friend of mine reminded me of my potential and I realized that I really was wasting my time. You know what he said to me?” Tony does. He remembers clear as day and mumbles it along with her. “Scrape ‘em off, Pepper. You wanna save someone, save yourself?” She flicks her hair back and goes on. “I thought long and hard after that about what I was doing with my life. I really had nothing to show for it. I felt like such a failure and spent the next year trying to pull myself out of that. I’m not going back to it now.”

He didn’t mean it. Not any of it. Tony never wanted to make Pepper doubt herself or her life and he has. From the sounds of it, his words helped push her into some sort of depression. He has to fix that. He will. 

“I’m sorry, Pepper,” Tony whispers as he steps back into the elevator. “I’m so sorry.” He looks at the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and sighs. “That was a lousy thing to do to her. I--”

The elevator drops again and this time lands rougher than it’s been doing. Tony even needs to grab onto the railings again to make sure he doesn’t topple over. When he straightens back up, he gives a look to the ghost. 

“Where are we? Disney World?” 

No. Definitely not Disney World. This is what Tony’s been waiting for. A cemetery. He thought he was prepared for this, but evidently not. Bile burns in his throat and Tony does the only thing he knows how to do when he’s scared. 

“Okay, so what?” he barks. “I know how this works. You’re gonna show me my funeral and there’s gonna be no one there and…”

He trails off when he sees the opposite of that. Right by a big pine tree is a whole group of people all gathered around. Confused, Tony steps out to go see what it is he’s not understanding. This is not how the story goes, he’s sure of it. The people over there are all holding candles and Tony’s sure this isn’t an actual funeral. Just people visiting a lost loved one. 

“Oh no…” Tony whispers when he starts to recognize some of the people there. People he doesn’t know, but people he saw smiling and laughing together just earlier today. They all start to walk away and leave just one person to grieve privately. “Steve…”

Steve is just standing there clutching flowers to his chest as Tony approaches to see the spot they’re standing over. It’s still and quiet until a sob breaks through Steve. So hard and heavy it actually startles Tony. 

“Why?” he weeps. “Why did you leave me, Bucky?” 

Dropping to his knees, Steve wraps his arms around the marker there as though the cold stone is somehow better than nothing. He just bawls. Bawls long and hard and Tony feels his own tears swell in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” he murmurs. “I’ll fix this. I will… I…” He swirls around to face the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. “Why are you showing me this? What’s the point? I told you, I’m going to fix it! I’m not… I’m not going to let this happen!”

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come says nothing. Just stand there, staring as rage begins to boil over inside of Tony. He races up to the ghost and tries to shove him back. He’s not even sure why, he just needs to do something. Make this stupid ghost have some sort of reaction like Loki and Thor did. But all it accomplishes is making the hooded robes fall off. Instead of a skeleton or some grotesque, demonic form, there’s a thick, metal robot with glowing eyes that glares down at Tony. Somehow, it’s even more frightening. 

“Holy shit…” Tony gasps. “What… what are you?” All the ghost does is point at Tony. “Me? You’re… me?” Tony backs away from the ghost and the idea that it’s somehow _him_ , disgusted and confused by it. “No…” he mutters and shakes his head. “No it…”

Tony trips over something and falls backwards, his head hitting something cold and hard. Hissing, he rubs the back of his head and turns to see what he’s hit. A maker. Covered in dead leaves and surrounded by weeds and overgrown grass. Tony’s hand trembles when he clears some of the rubbish away only to see there’s nothing written there.

“Who… who’s lonely grave is this?” Tony asks. 

He knows. He knows the answer, but still the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come leans in and actually responds. 

“Why it yours, Tony Stark,” he states. “The _richest_ man in the cemetery.”

Beneath Tony, the ground begins to shake and soften. It’s crumbling right out from under him and he’s sinking into it. Into the cold, wet ground and being pulled into endless darkness. 

“No!” Tony screams as he tries desperately to dig himself out. “No, please! I can change!” he promises. He will. He knows he can. He _wants_ to. “Oh, please don’t do this, please! I wanna live! I wanna live!” Dirt and filth cover his hands and arms and spill into his mouth and fill his eyes. “I wanna live! I wanna--” Tony falls out of the elevator and onto a carpeted floor. In his office. He looks up and screams out a laugh a elation. “I’m alive! Oh my _god_ what a rush!”

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony spins around to see Steve coming out of another elevator.

“Steve!” he exclaims and rushes over to pull his assistant into a tight hug. “I’m alive!”

“Y-yes, sir,” Steve struggles to say with Tony’s arms tightly around him. “You’re alive.”

Another elated laugh bursts through Tony and he grabs hold of Steve’s face to plant a big, wet kiss on his cheek. He backs away from Steve and spins around with his arms out and then stops and points at Steve.

“I’m alive!” he bursts into song. “And so are you!”

Sprinting back up to Steve again he holds both his hands up to him for a double high-five. It takes Steve a second to realize what he’s looking for, but when it registers, he hesitantly touches his palms to Tony’s. As soon as their hands touch, Tony laces their fingers together and heaves Steve away from the wall.

“Alright, here’s the deal!” he shouts excitedly and spins them both in circles. “You’ve been my assistant for how long now?”

“F-five years…”

“Five years too long! You’re way too good for me, Steve! I’m making you my vice president of programming…” Steve’s eyes go wide. “And doubling your salary…” Steve’s jaw drops. “And you’ll get your own office. How about my office? Do you want my office?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I don’t… really like your office.”

Tony tosses his head back in an amused laughed. “That is so you!”

He slows down and lets go. Steve tumbles back a bit and then straightens back up, fixing his clothes as he does. 

“Mr. Stark,” Steve whispers. “Are you on drugs?”

“No!” Tony cracks up. Then rethinks that. “I don’t know! Maybe I’m high on life or Christmas or the holidays or whatever!”

Steve just blinks at him a few times before rattling his head. 

“Okay, so what’s the catch?” he asks. 

“The catch…” Tony leans against the wall next to him. “Is that we need to hire Eliot Laudermilk back first thing in the morning. What sort of shithead fires someone for no reason two days before Christmas?”

“You do, sir,” Steve remarks. 

“You’re right!” Tony laughs. “Oh _man_ , how did you not kill me?”

“Lots of patience?” he answers and when Tony merely laughs again, Steve says, “Okay, I think there’s a problem here. I’m looking for an Anthony Edward Stark.”

Tony flings his arms out to the side. “That’s _me_! But the best part is, it’s _not_ me! Steve! The world has this great word for me. Asshole. I was an asshole.” Steve sort of nods at that. “And now I’m not an asshole!”

Laughing some more, Tony once again throws his arms around Steve. Seconds after he’s hugging him again, he hears Steve phone chime.

“Oh, shit!” Tony leaps away from him. “What time is it?”

“Uh…” Steve checks his phone. “It’s a quarter to midnight?”

“We didn’t miss it!” Tony cheers and pumps a fist into the air.

“Didn’t miss what, Mr. Stark?”

“Christmas, ya big lug!” Tony tousles Steve’s hair and then grabs him by the front of his shirt to haul them both into the elevator. “You and I are gonna have some fun tonight!”

Tony’s not sure, but Steve might bless himself just as the doors to the elevators close. 

They hurry down into the studio, Tony tugging Steve behind him the whole time, and arrive just as Ebenezer Scrooge is about to ask the little boy to buy him a goose from the store. The actor is just about to toss the coin down when Tony rushes over to catch it midair before the boy can. 

“Heyo!” he announces while Steve motions for the cameras to keep rolling. Tony puts his arm around the boy next to him. “Hello, son, what’s your name?”

“Um… Mike.”

“Mike, say hello to your parents.” Mike waves at the camera. “You and everyone else here are doing a great job tonight,” Tony says. “Hello, everyone, I am Tony Stark, the president of Stark TV.”

Off to the side, Tony just catches a glimpse of Nick Fury guiding Justin Hammer away, telling him to sit back down and to keep quiet. 

“I’d, uh, I’d like everyone to meet Steve!” He holds a hand out to Steve who sorta gives a timid wave to the camera. “Steve, come here, come here!” Eyes glancing around, Steve steps up next to him. “This man right here is absolutely incredible and I wouldn’t be half as successful over the past few years without him. And he, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the many brave men and women who have helped try to keep the peace in our country. So let’s give it up for Steve--” He starts to clap and others follow in suit as Steve ducks his head down with a blush “--and all our soldiers past and present.” Tony claps Steve on the back again. “This is my assistant, no! Not anymore! Now he’s my vice president of programming! See that, Steve? Witnesses. Now they all know.”

Steve gives him this saucy sort of grin. “And my raise, sir?”

Tony laughs. “And I’m doubling his salary!” He pats Steve on the back. “Good?”

“Very good, sir.”

“Great! Now, I have a question for all of you!” Tony starts to move about the set, causing the crew to try to keep up with what he’s doing. “What kind of a rat jerk would schedule a live program on Christmas Eve?”

“Only you, Mr. Stark,” Steve answers.

The cast and crew exchange worried glances, but then sort of chuckle all together when Tony just holds a playful fist up to Steve. 

“You know, a few hours ago, I’d’ve had his ass tossed to the curb for that, but Steve is absolutely correct.” Tony paces back the other way again and shakes his head. “You are… you’re looking at a guy who told someone this afternoon to staple antlers to a mouse’s head. How many of you can say you have the brass cajones to do that?

You know, I bet the people that I have working here tonight have great families that they’d like to be with. I know Steve does!” Tony spots Bucky as he creeps closer and points with a smile. “He does. And, oh!” He reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket where he stuffed Rhodey’s gift. “I have a great family, look at this.” He holds the pictures out. “This is my best friend in the whole world, my brother, Rhodey. And there’s me with that goofy grin. I got this from him today for Christmas.” Tony sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “I, uh, I got him a towel. The TV is from Steve, Rhodes. You were, you were right about Christmas. I’m… I’m sorry. Carol, Sam, Maria? You were right about me. Really, you guys were right about everything.” He holds a finger up. “Except… Platform 9 ¾. What was the platform that Harry Potter got the Hogwarts Express from? Platform 9 ¾. Sorry, guys, no points this round.”

Tony can just imagine their shocked and confused faces when he says that. It makes him laugh. He starts making his way over to the cast and crew and shakes their hands or offers high fives and even pulls some in for hugs. One woman is holding a doll as a prop and Tony pretends to drop it.

“I’m just kidding!” he laughs. “It’s just a doll! Come on, it’s a party! Steve!” He turns to see Steve, astute as always, right behind him. “One last thing before your promotion kicks in! We need champagne for 250 people and get the stuff I buy for me, not the stuff I send to other people.”

“Right away, Mr. Stark.” Steve is actually smiling as he pulls out his phone to work his magic. 

“You know, it’s not too late on Christmas Eve to have a little fun! You can call a friend who you haven’t seen or an old college roommate or an old army buddy.” He spins back to face those behind. “Hey! Come on, I don’t hear any partying!” They all start cheering and laughing, and Tony starts to shimmy across the floor. “I mean, this is a night to party in all the best ways! Oh hey look at this!” He points above the woman he’s standing in front of. “It’s mistletoe! You all know the rule, right?” The woman laughs and starts reeling him in by his tie. “She’s just upholding the law! It’s Federal law, really…”

Their lips meet and she chuckles as she pecks his as everyone around them starts hooting and hollering. 

“Wow!” Tony exclaims. “That was… that was really good. But…” He touches his lips. “You know, it wasn’t… great. Because, for me, there’s only been one great. There is a girl… a woman, that I loved a long time ago. Who I still love. But, I… I really did something lousy. Years ago and today, but… it’s Christmas Eve, maybe it’s not too late. Is it… Pepper?”

“No, it’s not.”

Tony whips his gaze to the side. There’s Pepper, standing among the cast and crew and Tony just grins as he goes over to her.

“What’re you… what’re you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” she chuckles. “Some… man with a staff came and said I might want to be here.” Tony lets out a breath of a laugh. “So… here I am.”

“Pepper,” he whispers. “I love you. Is there anyway we can--”

She answers his incomplete question with a kiss, and once again the crowd breaks out in cheers. Tony wraps his arms around her and when they break away he gestures to the camera. 

“Pepper, the whole world, the whole world, Pepper.” 

He tugs her in closer and then starts singing Christmas carols. There’s no need to ask anyone to join him since they all start singing along anyway. In the middle of the song, Steve comes over with his phone out. He shows Tony a text from Rhodey -- Tony realizes his phone is still off then -- and it’s a picture of a sonogram and says _hello, Uncle Tony_. Tears fill Tony’s eyes and he quickly wipes his hand across them as Steve grins and Pepper kisses his cheek. 

“Now how did that happen?” Tony exclaims when the singing comes to an end. “It happened cause it’s Christmas Eve! The holidays -- all of them -- are magical, I’m telling you! I’m not out of my mind! It’s the holidays! It’s the one time of year that we all act a little nicer, we… we smile a little easier, when we, we cheer a little more.” 

He feels himself growing more and more passionate as he goes on. Because Tony means this. Wholeheartedly and one hundred percent. 

“For a few weeks of the year we can all be the people we always hoped we would be!” Tony runs a hand over his head. “It’s a miracle, it really _is_ a miracle. Because it happens every year and if you waste that miracle, you’re gonna burn for it, trust me on that.” People start to crowd around him now and Pepper twines their arms while Steve stands on his other side. “You really do gotta get involved with mankind, I’m telling ya cause there are people having trouble making their miracle happen and we gotta get out there and help them! There are people out there that don’t have enough to eat, that are cold, that need medicine, and we can help them! You can go out and say hello to these people! We can take an old blanket out of the closet and give it to them or make a sandwich and say ‘oh by the way, here’! I… I get it now!”

And he does. Tony gets it so much he feels like he could burst with joy and happiness. 

“If you… if you give then you can make your miracle happen!” Tony points into the camera. “It can happen to you! It doesn’t just have to be for the poor and the hungry! You’ve gotta have this miracle! It can happen to you if you just believe in it! And when you get it, you’ll want it again tomorrow! You’ll want it so much you’ll get greedy for it! And it can happen everyday! Everyday not just the holiday season! You can make it happen everyday!” 

Tony doesn’t know what’s happening but there’s this warm feeling spreading through his whole body. It’s so overwhelming that there are tears in his eyes again. 

“I believe in it now, I do! And I… and it’s great! It’s… it’s really better than I’ve felt in a long time.” Tony closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. “Have a, have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to every one of you.” 

Tony figures he’s done. That’s it, show’s over. He’s ready to start this. To be the person he knows he can be. But apparently there’s still more since there’s suddenly someone next to him. Bucky slides in and looks at him like he expects something very, very obvious from Tony.

“Did I…” Tony pulls his eyebrows in. “Did I forget something, big guy?”

Bucky continues to look at him for a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah,” he says. He says? _He says_. “God bless us everyone.” Tony’s eyes go wide and from just a few inches over he can hear Steve gasp. Bucky smiles softly and looks at his husband. “H-hi, Steve.”

“Bucky…” Steve whispers and pulls him into his arms.

Warmth floods through Tony’s entire body. He’s never felt so good before. Never in his life. He’s reunited with Pepper and he’s watching love blossom all around him and he’s got a text from Rhodey and he’s going to be an uncle. 

“This is Steve’s husband,” Tony says. “And he’s absolutely right.” Tony pulls Pepper in for a kiss and looks at Steve and Bucky still hugging and pats the picture of him and Rhodey. “God bless us, everyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I haven't been around much and my apologies for that. Things have been super busy and kinda crazy and I'm working on my WIPs to update them asap, but I did want to throw a holiday fic together so I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Hope everyone is having a lovely holiday season and happy new years!! 
> 
> come find me on tumblr at[thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
> a place for stucky, marvel, and all things fun!!


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